The Deepest Circle
by Halia
Summary: Jack has been betrayed yet again by another treacherous shipmate, and he starts to believe that his old friends are beginning to turn on him, too. How can they prove to him otherwise before he goes mad with hate? Chapter 15 is FINALLY up!
1. Blood

The Deepest Circle  
  
Plot: Jack has been betrayed yet again by another treacherous shipmate, and he starts to believe that his old friends are beginning to turn on him, too. How can they prove to him otherwise before he goes mad with hate?  
  
Rating: PG (for this chapter...it's likely to get more severe as the story goes on)  
  
Author's Notes: This fic takes place about five years after POTC left off. I've given Will and Elizabeth a daughter, though generally I like to wade away from that territory; it tends to get rather sticky. However, she's necessary for the plot, and not in it for very long, so be patient. ;) An enormous, enormous thanks to the lovely Merrie--my delicious beta and wonderful friend. You rock, love! This fic's for you. :)  
  
x x x x x  
  
Will Turner seldom received knocks on the door, especially at this time of day. He had been sitting in the study glancing at various books kept in a locked chest, debating which ones to give to Elizabeth for her birthday next week, when three hard taps on the door interrupted his thoughts. He stood up and paced over into the main hall.  
  
"Who is it?" he asked lightly, leaning in towards the front door. There was only more knocking. He pressed his fingers on the handle and pulled it open.  
  
There stood a man of about Will's height, give or take a few inches, wrapped in ragged threads that proved they were once of an elegant and expensive nature. His raven-colored hair was adorned with many miscellaneous and colorful trinkets, and his eyes were dully lit like burnt coal--dark and sharp, so hypnotic they looked as if they could pierce iron with a simple glance. They were thickly outlined in kohl, and above his lips was a small mustache; below, a tiny patch of a beard, in little French- braids fastened with two pairs of beads. He let out a grin, and revealed no less than four glimmering gold teeth, all scattered around the far corners of his pearlies. He held out his arms and moved his fingers slightly, the sun glinting off his silver rings. "Master Turner," he purred, giving a wee bow.  
  
"Jack!" said Will breathlessly, leaning in and giving his old friend a hug. He would have held him longer if he didn't smell like a decaying slab of meat. "How are you?"  
  
"Fine, lad, fine. Just stopping by to catch a glimpse at your humble shack."  
  
"Humble shack, indeed," smiled Will. He was still living in Elizabeth's old grand estate, along with said strumpet, of course. The interior was as lovely as ever, as Jack could see as his eyes wandered past Will's shoulders. The damage that the Barbossa's old crew had caused had also long since been patched up, and Jack could pick up the faint scent of smoke and roses from inside. "Would you like to come in?" Will asked after a few moments.  
  
Jack revealed a gold-toothed smile and swaggered into the house, and let out a booming, "Hello, Tuner household!" that caused Will to jump. Suddenly the sound of scurrying footsteps rang throughout the halls and a little force slammed onto Jack's knees.  
  
"Jack! Jack! Jack! Jack!"  
  
Jack looked down and there was Peony, Elizabeth and Will's young daughter. "The birthday girl!" Jack roared, picking the little girl up by the waist and hoisting her into the air. She laughed crazily as Jack threw her over his shoulder. "Well, that's all I wanted, Mr. Turner. Thank you very much." He turned around and started out the door once more, then went down the path that led to the large black gates. Will leaned against the doorframe and smiled, watching his little girl being bounced about by the captain.  
  
At last, Jack set her down and took her hand and charged back up to the front door, then pushed her into her father's arms. "Okay, love. You're too big for me to carry home now."  
  
"I want to go on your ship later," said Peony, as her father lifted her up and supported her on his waist.  
  
"Ah, that bit's up to your father, darling. And your mother, of course, I'd imagine she'd have a hard time lettin' her girl on the Pearl with a bunch of smelly pirates."  
  
"But I'm bigger now," she replied, leaning in towards Jack more. "I'm four today."  
  
"That you are. Maybe we'll be lucky."  
  
"Come along inside now," said Will, plopping Peony back on the ground. She stood by Jack's knees and clung to him for all she was worth.  
  
"Jack?" asked a female voice suddenly.  
  
Jack glanced up and at the top of the staircase stood Elizabeth, looking lovely as ever. Her hair wasn't done up, and cascaded gloriously down her shoulders in a golden spill of shine. She was wearing a nightgown that fluttered by her ankles in the warm breeze from the open windows. "Why, Miss Swann. What a pleasant surprise. Aren't you looking pretty this morning?"  
  
"It's Mrs. Turner," she corrected him gently.  
  
"Ah, you'll always be Miss Swann to me, pet," Jack purred with a grin.  
  
She gave him a weak smile and trotted down the stairs, then brushed up next to Will. "It's nice to see you again. We were certain that you wouldn't be coming back until at least Christmas."  
  
Jack shrugged. "Aye, well, I'm back for just a little while. I'm stopping by Port Royale to take care of some business."  
  
"With whom?" asked Elizabeth inquisitively.  
  
"Old friends," Jack smiled. It wasn't a free and easy smile, however, like the ones Jack generally offered. This one seemed forced, and it made Will uneasy. Jack's face was also unnaturally pale, and he looked tired. 'Probably after long months at sea,' Will thought. 'Stop worrying yourself.'  
  
"You mean us?"  
  
"Who else?" he asked loudly. "I haven't got many friends that aren't bartenders"--he gave a small smile--"or pirates."  
  
"Not in front of the child," Elizabeth muttered dully.  
  
"Bah, are you hearing this, Peony?" asked Jack incredulously, picking the little girl up again. She giggled. "Your mother's obviously got some sort of grudge against me and my fellow buccaneers, wouldn't you say?"  
  
Peony smiled and nodded vigorously, then put her arms around Jack's neck.  
  
"Mummy, I want to go on his ship," she said, "the Brat Pearl."  
  
"Black Pearl, love," Jack purred into her ear with the small smile still on his lips.  
  
"Absolutely not," Elizabeth said sternly, widening her eyes, giving Jack that you-should-know-better look.  
  
Jack gave her a coy grin, the ones she hated, and put Peony back down and pushed her in the direction of the long hall on the left side of the house. She scurried off. When she was out of sight, Jack crossed his arms and sighed heavily, leaning back on one of the windows, the wet leaves of the palms outside--still moist from the night's rain--pressed against the glass behind him.  
  
Will studied Jack for a few moments, trying to see any changes in his appearance since he had last seen him six months before. Not much different at all, he thought. But it was when he caught sight of something red and thick against Jack's copper skin: a gash. It stretched from his wrist and then disappeared into his jacket, and it was only visible when Jack crossed his arms in this position. The wound was new, and the blood still soaked on the sleeve making the blue fabric look merely doused in salt water.  
  
Suddenly Jack frowned and uncrossed his arms, and tugged the sleeve over his wrist. He knew Will had seen it.  
  
"Jack, what was..."  
  
"Let's see what the little girl is up to, shall we?" Jack asked nonchalantly, and he followed her path and rounded the corner at the end of the hall. The couple was left in silence for a few moments.  
  
"Will, are you all right?"  
  
Elizabeth's quiet voice interrupted his thoughts, which seemed to topple over one another like a deck of cards.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You look pale. Are you feeling ill?" She looked concerned. And he knew it was stupid, but he loved the look on her face whenever that emotion struck her. Her full and rose-kissed lips slightly parted, her ample cinnamon eyes wide with every sensation in the world stuffed into them. She was so beautiful.  
  
But then there was Jack's wound. That ugly, horrid, freshly-licked slit going up his arm. Where had he been? How had he gotten it? Jack was certainly not acting himself. At first he was putting up a pretty good charade, but now it seemed to be catching up with the poor man. Something was nagging at Jack, and Will wanted to know what it was.  
  
Finally, they both went down the hall and entered the kitchen, and saw Jack leaning over a counter with his back to them, and Peony sitting on the very same counter dangling her legs and swinging them gently. She looked up off the floor and to her parents. "He's helping me flatten the dough," she said, "I couldn't do it myself."  
  
"Darling, what have I told you about trying to cook without mummy or daddy around to help?" asked Elizabeth, with one eyebrow raised. "Now hop off that counter, and--"  
  
"Oh, come off it," said Jack, turning to her and giving a faint smile. "She's got Uncle Jack now, hasn't she?"  
  
Elizabeth pressed her lips together and looked at Will harshly, but he simply shrugged again. She pulled out a chair from under the table and sat herself down, her arms crossed.  
  
"So Jack, what have you been up to lately?" asked Will finally, after listening to Peony explain to Jack the multiple ways she could tie her bootlaces.  
  
"Oh, not too much," the pirate answered, still pounding on the dough with his charcoal-smeared hands, and occasionally elbows. Even his answer was unusual. Will was expecting a lie about some great fierce conquest in which he'd slain 240 men without once dropping his cutlass and ended up claiming a new ship to add to his nonexistent fleet. But just 'not too much'...that was strange. Will also noticed how Jack was taking some great care not to allow his sleeves to spill down and reveal the gash...  
  
"Will?"  
  
He snapped back to the kitchen again. "Yes?"  
  
Elizabeth was staring at him. "Are you sure you're all right?"  
  
"Yes, darling. Fine." He smiled back at her weakly, and she didn't look entirely convinced, but she didn't pick up on the matter again.  
  
There was more silence now.  
  
Elizabeth had never felt so uncomfortable in Jack's company, aside from the day when he nearly put a bullet in her brain. He wasn't acting the same, and neither was her husband, and it irritated her that both men were keeping something all to themselves.  
  
Suddenly Jack let out a loud moan and seized his arm and his knees buckled a bit. Peony gave a violent tremble and stared at him, surprised, until he caught his breath and leaned in against the counter.  
  
Will stood up and rushed over to him, putting his arms around his waist and got him to stand straight on his feet again.  
  
"Jack, what's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing," Jack muttered loudly, swatting Will away with his good arm. "Nothing, I--I'm fine. I just hit the table too hard..."  
  
"Want me to kiss your arm?" asked Peony, her eyes expanding with sincerity. Jack managed a weak smile.  
  
"No, love."  
  
"Jack, can I talk to you?" asked Will, moving his hands up and clutching Jack's good arm, a bit of his finger brushing beneath the cloth. His skin was freezing.  
  
"Sure," Jack answered slowly. Will pulled him aside out the kitchen, around the corner, and back into the main hall of the house.  
  
"What is this?" hissed Will sharply, grasping Jack's arm and thrusting the sleeve off to reveal the angry wound. It was worse than Will had imagined. The blood ran down the sides of Jack's arm like exterior crimson veins. Most of it was smudged all over, and some of it had even dried into thin maroon dust along the cut--which was the most horrible to look at. It was at least four inches long. "What is this?" repeated Will again, harsher this time.  
  
Jack let out a gasp and tore himself away from Will, who realized he had been holding the arm tighter than he had meant. "I'm sorry, Jack...but...Jesus, what happened?"  
  
"I cut myself," Jack said almost angrily. "Just an accident, Will. No fuss. I've 'ad worse." The pirate turned to face Will again, and he gave him a glance that nearly made the former blacksmith shiver.  
  
Jack looked cold and morose, yet it was almost apologetic; as if he were making up for some horrendous injustice that he had committed towards Will.  
  
His chest tightened as the uneasiness crept through his bones, his mind suddenly focused on his daughter, who was, out of the corner of his eye, standing in the doorframe. He supposed she had heard the whole conversation. She said in a small voice, "Jack?"  
  
Jack quickly tore his sleeve down to cover the wound, and gave the little girl his best smile. "Yes, love?"  
  
"I can buy you some things for your cut," she answered. She glanced at her father. "Can I take him down to the market? Please?"  
  
Will was almost dazed at the sudden and violent new light the last twenty minutes had cast upon the day. Something was wrong, something big, and he feared for Jack's current state. His arm was bleeding badly, and from the pale of his friend's face it looked as if he would pass out within the next hour.  
  
"I'll go," said Will finally, glancing at his daughter, who was wide-eyed with fear. He knew she was afraid for Jack, too. "Stay here, I should be back as soon as possible." Will got the door and gave Peony and Jack a final glance before he quickly closed the door, exited and shut it behind him.  
  
A few seconds of silence passed. Peony still stood in the doorframe, arms tucked behind her back. "Are you going to die, Jack?"  
  
Jack let out a small laugh, walked to her and picked her up with his good arm. "Nonsense, darling. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow." She giggled at this, and he strode forth into the kitchen, where Elizabeth was sitting at the table drumming her fingers impatiently. She glanced up as they entered.  
  
"Are you all right, Jack?" Her voice was limp with concern.  
  
"Yes. Fine." He smiled at her and then at Peony, then boldly stated, "How would you like to come aboard my ship, Miss Peony?"  
  
Her eyes widened and her face lit up with such complete euphoria that Jack laughed out loud again. She transferred her look of joy to her mother, who appeared slightly uneasy.  
  
"On a pirate ship, Jack?"  
  
"Just for a little while," Peony pleaded, throwing her arms around Jack's neck. Jack laughed again.  
  
Elizabeth's brow furrowed and she gave Jack a long, hard stare, looking as if she were begging Jack to give her the right to trust him. He only smiled nonchalantly at her back.  
  
"All right," she muttered finally. "But Jack, I swear, if you so much as let her *touch* a cutlass--"  
  
Peony let out a cry of excitement and Jack lifted her up higher in the air and said, "We'll be back in one hour at most. Ta!" He hauled her out the doorway.  
  
"All right," Elizabeth replied, sounding slightly frazzled. "Bye, darling."  
  
"Bye, mummy!" she heard Peony call from the outside hall, and then the door slammed closed.  
  
It was the last time she would hear her daughter's voice.  
  
x x x x x  
  
Jack held Peony to him closely as he wandered down towards the docking bay. His head was light; he couldn't think clearly and he would stumble every so often, but his grip on the young girl would not loosen. His arm stung viciously, and the blood clinging to his sleeves was cold and unpleasant, not to mention doused in the ocean's salt water, which made it even more unbearable. But he thought of Peony. Her sweet, innocent weight curled up in his arms made his eyes prickle at the corners. He imagined every detail of her to try and keep his mind off the pain. The way she smelled--like smoke and powdered flowers, just as Elizabeth had when she leaned onto Jack that drunken night by the fire on the marooned island five years before.  
  
"Will they like me?" the girl asked suddenly, interrupting Jack's desperate thoughts. He tripped over nothing, but Peony remained unfazed, since she seemed to have an idea of how much he valued protecting her.  
  
"Who, love?" he breathed, trudging on.  
  
"Your crew," she replied. "Will your crew like me?"  
  
"They'll love you," he said with a weak smile. "Who could possibly not love you, darling?"  
  
She grinned. Jack's heart ached, as his brain throbbed with the same thought over and over: Keep Her Safe, Keep Her Safe, Keep Her Safe...  
  
They arrived at the ship sooner than he'd expected--or wanted. He also realized that he was panting quite heavily and that things weren't beginning to appear right in his eyes. Images were fuzzy and his head felt empty as his eyes watered. He sucked all the pain in as best he could and stepped onto the walking platform, when suddenly a voice interrupted him: "Jack Sparrow?"  
  
His name perked in his ears. Jack turned, and on the main dock it was none other than Commodore Norrington, a tight scowl on his face and his arms tucked behind his back dutifully.  
  
"Captain Jack Sparrow," Jack muttered, adjusting Peony in his arms.  
  
"What exactly are you doing with Miss Peony, Captain?" He scoffed on the last word, as if it were a fluffy and useless object.  
  
"Just taking her aboard the Pearl for a bit," Jack answered. "Mother's permission, Mr. Commodore Sir, no worries."  
  
Peony waved at him, her head still tucked between the smooth curve of Jack's jaw and throat. "Hello, James."  
  
He smiled slightly. "Hello, Miss Peony. Are you sure you want to get aboard with Mr. Sparrow?"  
  
"Yes," she answered. Jack smiled.  
  
Norrington's brief look of remote happiness faded, and he nodded shortly. "Very well, then. Until then, Mr. Sparrow."  
  
"Captain!" Jack hollered, as Norrington turned his back on them and went on his way. "Stupid git," he whispered to himself.  
  
"What?" Peony's head poked up.  
  
"Nothing," Jack murmured. "Onward, then." He was about to take another step, but he hesitated, and said, "Peony?"  
  
She looked up at him.  
  
"I want you to promise me something," he said slowly. She nodded. "Whatever happens, I'm...well, your mummy and daddy love you. And Uncle Jack loves you; he loves you more than anything. And you must promise me to remember that."  
  
"All right," she answered, slightly confused, and she rested her head back on his chest.  
  
Jack took a deep breath and felt his heartbeat pulsing throughout the bony walls of his wrists as he stepped onto the deck.  
  
He was fading now. The pulse was in his ears, blocking out all sound, and there were bright flashes erupting over the naturally quiet palms and houses lining the beach. He sunk down to his knees and put Peony on the deck. "Go inside that room," he slurred with as much strength as possible. He pointed to the captain's quarters. "Don't come out until I tell you."  
  
"Jack," she said strongly, "come in with me..."  
  
"In a moment, sweetheart," he muttered, "in a moment. I'll be right there, just go on in ahead." He pushed her foreward, and she glanced back at him reluctantly before disappearing behind the door.  
  
Jack exhaled heavily and stared at the wooden planks of the deck. Thick red fluid began to ooze onto it as inch by inch he lay down, finally spinning into darkness as he heard the scream. 


	2. Silver

The Deepest Circle  
  
Plot: Jack has been betrayed yet again by another treacherous shipmate, and he starts to believe that his old friends are beginning to turn on him, too. How can they prove to him otherwise before he goes mad with hate?  
  
Chapter Rating: PG-13, for both active and implied violence  
  
Author's Notes: Thanks again to Merrie. :) Also to the lovely reviewers-- you really made my day. Thank you! Also, if some of you were confused about some things in Ch. 1 and told me about them, I've tried to clear them up in the following chapter. But keep in mind, what happens next is not going to be pretty. This is where it all begins.  
  
x x x x x  
  
Things were bleary when Jack opened his eyes. The air smelled like rotting limes, and his arm was still stinging, but the pain had dulled a bit. When his vision cleared up, he found himself lying on a straw-stuffed mattress in a small cabin; he was still on the Pearl. The ship was moving, he noticed, as the cabin swayed back and forth. He glanced down at his arm, which was now bandaged, and the blood seeped through the gauze like red ink. He winced as he sat up and leaned against the wall. Then it hit him like lightning: Peony. He remembered hearing a scream before he passed out; it could have been his imagination, perhaps, but it was unlikely. She had much to fear on this ship.  
  
The door opened suddenly and it caused Jack to jump a bit. To his great relief, Anamaria stood there clutching a cup of water and a plate with a few scraps. She looked shocked to see him alive, let alone awake. "Jack," she breathed. He smiled weakly back at her.  
  
"Hello, Ana."  
  
She rushed forward and knelt beside him, and took his arm in her hands. "Are you all right?"  
  
"I can't really say," he muttered with a cough.  
  
"Did you get her?" asked Anamaria in a low tone of voice. Her eyes widened in urgency.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"The girl. The Turner girl."  
  
Jack swallowed down something that tasted vile and disgusting as he tried not to imagine what had happened to dear Peony. "Yes, I got her."  
  
"Is she all right?"  
  
"I--"  
  
There was a swift tapping at the door, and suddenly a woman--girl, really-- no more than 25 years old appeared, leaning against the doorframe. She was strikingly beautiful, with fiery red hair and chestnut eyes. She wore a ragged jacket, thick boots and loose pants with two pistols holstered at her shapely waist. She held a cutlass in her right hand as a small grin began to grow on her lips.  
  
"Back, I see," she said slowly. An Irish accent tugged at her words. "Very good, Captain Sparrow. Very good."  
  
"I got you the girl," Jack said hesitantly.  
  
The woman gave out a full-fledged grin now, and traced the cutlass blade against the old wood of the door. "Is that right?"  
  
"You promised to leave," pressed Jack, frowning slightly at her easiness about the whole situation. "You said if I got the girl, you'd send out the ransom note and that was all--"  
  
"I know what I said, Sparrow!" she snapped suddenly. She cocked the pistol on her left side and aimed it at Jack's face for a few moments. Her stern look faded and she smiled again, letting out a breezy laugh. "Ah, I ain't gonna shoot you, darlin', you're far too good for that, I fear."  
  
Jack was tense, but he wasn't afraid.  
  
The woman turned to Anamaria and gave a nudge of her head in the direction of the door. Ana looked vastly upset and scowled, but she left without a word.  
  
In a flash of movement, the woman darted for Jack and held the blade to his throat with the same terrible grin on her face.  
  
"You wouldn't want to kill me, Luciana," breathed Jack steadily, trying not to make a sudden movement.  
  
"Oh, I know, Jack," she drawled. She bent down to his level and pressed the blade harder. "But some day it'll be such fun."  
  
"Where's Peony?" he hissed. She recoiled slightly.  
  
"Is that her name? Peony?" Luciana took the blade off Jack's neck and examined the tip of it with her fingers. "She's a very sweet young lass, isn't she?"  
  
"Where is she?"  
  
"Now, now, Jack." The blade was back, only now it pressed on his arm wound. He winced loudly as it pierced the bandage and dug into his already open flesh. "We wouldn't want two of these on ya, now would we?" She patted his other arm with the edge of the cutlass and laughed, then put it back in its sheath. She took Jack by his bad arm and hoisted him up off the bed. His knees buckled, of course, but she hauled him forward all the same.  
  
They were outside now. The sun was brilliant and it made Jack squint, and he tried to stand upright, although his whole body seemed to scream with pain.  
  
There was his crew, all before him on the deck--or those who were once his crew. They appeared solemn and apologetic, but none dared looked as if they would make a move to force Luciana off him. All except Anamaria, who looked ready to pounce.  
  
"Mister Gibbs!" shouted Luciana, who kept violently jerking the sagging Jack upright. The old man looked up as his name was called.  
  
"Captain?"  
  
"Bring out the girl," she said. Jack stared at Gibbs with as much hope in his face as he could muster, but Gibbs only sighed sadly and retreated into the captain's quarters. "For god's sake, Sparrow!" Luciana was laughing crazily now. "Look at ye!" Jack cried out as he felt her fist collide hard with his gut, but he bit back the scream he normally would have emitted. He couldn't let his men see him like this.  
  
Gibbs emerged, holding the small girl in his arms. She looked terrified. The only harm done to her that Jack could see was a small bruise around her arm, as if someone had grabbed her tightly.  
  
"Ah, Miss Peony!" Luciana cried, delighted.  
  
"Jack?" Peony called, with the tears apparent in her tone of voice. Gibbs put her down and she ran over to the pirate and threw her arms around him. "Jack, I want to go home! I want to go home!" she sobbed.  
  
Jack said nothing, only a quiet "Shh," but Peony's grip on him only tightened. Luciana let go of him.  
  
"Peony, darling," she said, pulling a short dagger out of one of her pockets.  
  
Jack leaned forward over the little girl. "No..." He suspected the crew also looked somewhat more alert now, but it didn't matter to him. Peony was all his now. He couldn't let anything happen to her...  
  
"It's all right, love, don't be afraid," Luciana cooed to the sobbing little girl. "Give me your hand."  
  
Peony looked away from her and wept into Jack's shoulder.  
  
The pistol was whipped out again and held to Jack's forehead. "Put out your hand, Peony," Luciana hissed.  
  
The hand came out quickly. Jack nearly cried out in protest until Luciana placed the dagger in Peony's open little palm. "You see this knife?" Peony was whimpering hysterically. "I want you to stick it right here"--she pointed to the side of Jack's chest that was opposite his heart--"can you do that for me?"  
  
"No!" Peony cried, shaking her head furiously. The pistol against Jack's head pressed down further as she cocked it.  
  
"Do it."  
  
Peony glanced at Jack with her large eyes smothered with tears, and she shook her head slowly.  
  
"It's all right, darling," Jack said softly, "no worries. Stick it in old Jack."  
  
"No..."  
  
Jack leaned in and kissed her forehead, then whispered in her ear as she cried. "You have to do this, darling, for your mummy and daddy. They love you so much; they don't want you to get hurt. Just listen to what the lady tells you to do, aye?"  
  
"Okay, Jack," she breathed.  
  
The pain came fast into his chest, like a smack of fire. He choked aloud and recoiled from Peony's embrace, and looked down: the knife was embedded up to the handle in his chest.  
  
And then before he knew it, there was a loud shot, and Peony stopped crying.  
  
x x x x x  
  
"I'm back," Will announced, shutting the front door behind him with the bandage material in a small bag. Silence greeted him. "Hello?"  
  
"Where did you go?" asked Elizabeth, startling him. She was at the top of the staircase, and looked distraught.  
  
"To the market to get Jack some supplies for that gash of his."  
  
"Gash?" Elizabeth stared at her husband blankly. "He was wounded?"  
  
"Yes, didn't you see? A big, awful wound all along his arm."  
  
"Goodness. When did that happen?"  
  
"Well, he's had it since he's arrived."  
  
Elizabeth didn't say anything for a few minutes. "What...what do you mean?"  
  
"What, didn't you see it?" asked Will numbly. "Where is he?"  
  
"I-I let him take Peony down to the Pearl..."  
  
"You what?"  
  
Elizabeth started to tremble, and it was even apparent to Will, who was a good twenty feet away from her. "Oh, goodness, I didn't know..."  
  
Will didn't say anything, he only turned around and left the house again, slamming the door behind him. An exasperated Elizabeth scurried down the stairs and shoved her bare feet into her indoor slippers and caught up with him. He was already halfway down the hill, as the sun was nearly set and the sky was cast in a pale lavender. The warm breeze started to get a bit chillier as it sighed through the palm trees.  
  
"Will!" she shouted after him. "Will, don't be cross with me, it wasn't my fault--"  
  
"Not your fault?" Will hollered, halting and turning to her. "I'm surprised at you! I thought you would be reasonable enough about this and not let Jack take off with our daughter in his current. She's our DAUGHTER, Elizabeth--"  
  
"I know that!" she snapped back. "But I had no idea that Jack had been wounded, and yes, even though I had a bit of a hunch that he was acting strangely, it wouldn't have struck me as very odd, since Jack is acting strange half the time anyway!" Will didn't say anything. His jaw clenched tightly as he stared hard at the ground. "She's my daughter, too," Elizabeth said after a few moments. "Don't be cross with me, Will. I...I can't..." She started to break down now, and she covered her face with her hands.  
  
Will clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and gathered his weeping lover in his arms. "Shh, it's all right," he murmured, kissing her forehead. "She'll be all right. We just have to get down there now, and give Jack a piece of our minds, and hope to God he's all right."  
  
"Yes," Elizabeth said after a few moments of constant sobs. She wiped the corners of her eyes with her hands. "I'm so worried for her, Will...she's so little."  
  
"She'll be fine." Will took her hand and began leading her down to the main part of town. They arrived at the docks some twenty minutes later, and started browsing the many ships looking for the Pearl; the Pearl, which was already long gone.  
  
x x x x x  
  
James Norrington watched the sun sink below the choppy horizon, a spectacle which he had witnessed for the last thirteen years daily, on this same spot on the beach whenever possible. It was a mile or so away from the main docking area of Port Royale, on a bit of property that he owned close to his house, and it was a nice scrap of peace that he could have at the end of a busy day.  
  
Jack Sparrow's brief return had puzzled him. He had been known to stay with the Will and Elizabeth--calling them "The Turners" seemed odd to him, and although he tried to convince himself that he wasn't jealous of Will's conquest of the woman he loved, he knew that was precisely the problem--for at least a week. Maybe two, sometimes even a month. But today it had just been for one day, and he had brought Peony along with him. Perhaps it was a short trip with the little girl and he planned to return in the morning, or even later that night. He knew it was her birthday after all.  
  
Norrington had a special place in his heart for Peony. She looked so much like Elizabeth, had inherited her natural, glowing beauty, and she had a spirit he admired. She was a good, true little girl. And there was no one that Peony loved more than Jack Sparrow.  
  
He had seen them together at various visits. Ever since she was an infant, she loved Jack. He was always playing a game with her, teasing her, giving her presents and riddles, but most of all it was his stories. Jack could tell marvelous stories of his adventures aboard the Black Pearl in the local tavern, that started out just being told to Peony (and perhaps Will and Elizabeth if they were interested), and soon most people in the entire tavern would gather around the pirate. But his eyes always were locked on Peony. Norrington supposed that she was the best thing in Jack's life. They were inseparable.  
  
And Norrington also felt a twinge of jealousy at this. He sometimes wished he were more like Jack; not so hard-nosed and stiff and control-hungry. He wanted a relationship with Peony, as well, but the most personal he ever got with her was getting her to call him James rather than by his last name.  
  
It was dark now. Norrington sighed and was about to turn back to the main docks to continue working, until he spotted something drifting in the water. It wasn't too small, but it wasn't enormous either. It floated, limp and weighty with the current. It was only until he looked harder when his heart seemed to stop and the twinges of fear began to strike in his brain.  
  
It was Peony. 


	3. Tears

The Deepest Circle  
  
Plot: Jack has been betrayed yet again by another treacherous shipmate, and he starts to believe that his old friends are beginning to turn on him, too. How can they prove to him otherwise before he goes mad with hate?  
  
Chapter Rating: Somewhere in the PG-13, R category, for heavy emotional themes and graphic descriptions of violence.  
  
Author's Notes: So sorry for the delay, folks! Combination between holiday rush and laptop trouble. Anyway, I'm back, with a whole bunch of new chapters for you. :) Enjoy!  
  
x x x x x  
  
Will and Elizabeth had nearly given up scavenging the docking area for the Black Pearl. It was hopeless.  
  
Jack had taken their daughter. He'd betrayed their trust, and this was an absolutely unthinkable and unforgivable injustice--at least in Elizabeth's mind.  
  
"That lying bastard," she hissed, finally pausing and leaning up against the front of a café that lay close to the docks. Will looked at her apologetically, but this angered her. "Aren't you upset? For God's sake, Will, our daughter's on a ship full of dangerous pirates, and all you can do is stand there looking sorry for yourself!"  
  
"Don't start this again," Will muttered. "You're the one who let Peony out of the house with Jack in the first place, so don't pretend as if it's my fault."  
  
Elizabeth now wore a guilty pout on her face, and Will could see tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. He felt terrible--this wasn't like the woman he loved at all. She was a strong girl, and now her only weakness had been emphasized in such a cruel manner; their daughter was missing.  
  
"Maybe we should--"  
  
"Elizabeth!" came a horse shout from not-too-far away. "Mr. Turner, Elizabeth!"  
  
The two turned, and to their surprise, there stood Commodore Norrington, the clothes up his waist soaking wet. He had blood all over him, and his wig was gone, replaced now by ruffled dark chocolate hair. He was a good fifty feet away from them, and he looked awfully pale and distraught.  
  
"James?" asked Elizabeth, her horror growing as she saw the red smears all over his clothing. She and Will rushed over to him. "Oh, goodness, James! Are you all right?" Passers-by gawked at the sight for a few seconds, then carried on with their business.  
  
"Elizabeth...I..." He looked terrible, as if he were about to burst into tears at any moment. Elizabeth had never seen him in this state, and it frightened her.  
  
"What's wrong?" asked Will, his brow furrowing.  
  
"It's...it's Peony," he said at last, his eyes brimming over with hot tears. "She's dead."  
  
There was absolute silence until Elizabeth gave a startled laugh and began shaking her head.  
  
"No...no, there's got to be some mistake..." Her brief, cold smile faded into a look of pure unbelieving, as if she were saying, 'Don't let it be true, Don't let it be true...'  
  
He only stared back at her, his cheeks reddening and the first tears beginning to spill.  
  
Elizabeth let out a short whimper that dragged on into an agonized moan, and she nudged her face to Will's shoulder and began breathing shortly. Her husband only kept his eyes locked on Norrington in shock, and he pressed his lips on Elizabeth's forehead and began to cry.  
  
"I want to see her," breathed Elizabeth, turning around to face Norrington again. "I won't believe you until I see her."  
  
"I wouldn't recommend that," Norrington said shakily.  
  
"I want to see her!" Elizabeth cried, grabbing a hold of the commodore and giving him a violent shake. "I want to see my daughter, god damn you!"  
  
"Elizabeth!" Will grabbed his wife's arms and pulled her off of Norrington, who didn't look shocked by her reaction at all; his expression remained morose and blameworthy, as if he deserved the beating. "Take us to our daughter, Commodore," Will finally choked, with Elizabeth now sobbing madly in his shoulder.  
  
Norrington gave Will a long, hard stare, then finally turned around and said, "As you wish, Mr. Turner."  
  
x x x x x  
  
The sight of her four-year-old daughter with a bullet lodged beneath her eye socket suffocated Elizabeth. She had come across the body before her husband, sprawled on the beach with one eye open, her once beautiful honey- kissed hair now thickly matted with ocean water, sand, and blood.  
  
Elizabeth thought she was screaming. It was like being in a dream, where one feels they're screaming, yet no sound comes out. She thought she felt herself slumping to her knees, but she couldn't be sure. And she couldn't pull away from the sight of her daughter's corpse.  
  
"Oh, Jesus..." Will breathed behind her. His rational thought seemed to have snapped in two. This couldn't be Peony. It couldn't...  
  
He had only held her no more than three hours ago. Threw her up into the air as she laughed, the sound of it like bells gliding along rocks in a clear stream; held her against his chest and kissed her. After he had left the house to buy Jack's bandages, the last time he saw her before she died, he had to fasten one of his cufflinks or something of the like right outside the closed front door, and he heard Peony's last words that would ever pass through his ears: "Are you going to die, Jack?"  
  
"What was that, Mr. Turner?" asked Norrington suddenly, and Will snapped back to the shore.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I believe you just asked if Mr. Sparrow was going to die?"  
  
He'd said that aloud?  
  
"Well, rest assured...when we find him, he's going to hang for it."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"The murder of your daughter."  
  
Will almost let out a vastly inappropriate laugh, the thought was so absurd. "What? You...you think Jack did this?"  
  
Norrington only returned a hard stare, and then looked down at the weeping Elizabeth. She paused for a moment, and then turned to look at Will with a startling amount of tears spilling from her red and tired eyes.  
  
"Of course he did," she breathed at last, "who else could have?"  
  
"Jack did not kill Peony," said Will quietly, his whole body feeling as if it were filled with stones. "That's ridiculous."  
  
"Is it?" Elizabeth hollered, standing up now, her fists clenched by her sides as her face turned pale as ice. "Look at her, Will! Look at her!" She pointed to Peony, one eye open and staring into nothing. Her lips were parted, blood--still fairly wet--clinging to most of her pale little face. The bullet hole was huge and gaping beneath the closed eye.  
  
"I see her," he said shakily, beginning to tremble. He didn't feel the tears coming down his face.  
  
"Don't you want to find the man who did this to her?" Elizabeth's screams were piercing. "To Peony?"  
  
"Of course I do. But it wasn't Jack Sparrow, Elizabeth. I know in my heart, Jack would never do this..."  
  
"He's a pirate, Turner," Norrington said sternly. "Pirates can never be trusted, no matter how much--"  
  
"He would never do this!" Will hollered. "How can you all think so? This is Jack we're talking about! Jack loved Peony like she was his own, he would never--"  
  
"Will." His wife gazed at him with glossy eyes and trembling lips, salty stains running down her pretty cheeks. "Maybe Jack just isn't the same. He's has a dark side...perhaps sometimes with good intentions, but--"  
  
"Jack is a good man," Will whispered coldly. "You've seen it."  
  
She bit her lip and didn't say anything, but tears began to fall again. Will glanced at Norrington, who seemed to have lost his former (and rare) loss of control of his emotions. He no longer looked morose and apologetic, but tight-lipped and suspicious.  
  
Will could hardly believe what he was hearing from the person he loved the most aside from his dead daughter. Norrington's opinion didn't much matter to him right now; only Elizabeth's. And she was accusing the man who Will both trusted and respected to the bottom of his heart.  
  
Jack Sparrow did not kill Peony. There was no question in his mind.  
  
x x x x x  
  
Four days later, and the day before a small service was going to be held for Peony, Will received a frantic knock at the door. When he opened it, a man dressed in a uniform told Will to get down to the jail--and fast.  
  
Without a word, Will exited the house, closing the door behind him as the officer led him to the jailhouse.  
  
Norrington was waiting in the main room, looking anxious, hunched over in a chair with his arms crossed. He looked up as the door opened and beckoned Will over to him.  
  
"What's the matter?" asked Will, his brow furrowing. "What's happened?"  
  
Norrington stood up and signaled for Will to follow him downstairs.  
  
When they got to the cells, they went down about four down, and Norrington nudged his head in the direction of it.  
  
Will looked, and saw a figure sprawled out in the corner, lost in the shadows. He squinted and looked in harder, and then the features of the man began to reveal themselves slowly: it was Jack.  
  
Though with all the blood and grime on him, it hardly looked it. Red was pouring from his nose, his chest, his arm--which hadn't healed in the slightest yet--and even a small trickle from his mouth. His eyes were wide open, and if it hadn't been for the sure sign of his chest heaving up and down, he would have been presumed as a corpse.  
  
Suddenly the pupils in Jack's eyes darted towards the door, and Will almost jumped back, it startled him so much.  
  
"Jack?" Will's voice was faltering. Why was he so afraid? "Jack, are you all right?"  
  
The stare that Jack returned Will was haunting. The former blacksmith shuddered, and then turned to Norrington. "Why isn't he in the hospital?" he asked angrily.  
  
"We have no room for him, Mr. Turner."  
  
"Then make room."  
  
"Impossible."  
  
"Then help me bring him back to my house--"  
  
"Are you mad, Turner?" snapped Norrington abruptly. "This man murdered your daughter!"  
  
"He didn't!" shouted Will in return. He glanced at Jack and wrapped his rough fingers over the bars of the cell. "Jack, did you kill Peony?"  
  
Jack's eyes remained dead-calm and focused on Will, but there was no sign of movement on his lips.  
  
"Did you?"  
  
No answer.  
  
"God damn you, Jack! Did you kill my daughter!?" Will smalled his fists on the cool iron, now, enraged. He turned quickly to Norrington. "Open the door."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I want to speak with him."  
  
"He's a madman, Turner. He nearly killed one of the guards who tried to bring him his breakfast--"  
  
"I don't care! Open the damned gate!"  
  
Norrington hesitated, then pulled the ring of keys out of his pocket and pressed them into the lock, then gave a violent twist, and pulled the door open. Will shuffled inside, went to Jack and knelt down beside him. "Jack? Jack, are you feeling all right?"  
  
To Will's horror, Jack grinned. It was the most menacing grin he had ever seen. "I held her by the throat as I pulled the trigger."  
  
Will's gaze fluttered up to the stone wall right above Jack, and there, in thick smears of blood, was the word "REDRUM."  
  
Jack suddenly stood up, and Will realized that there was a long sword stuck straight through Jack's torso, the half that went through his back covered in dark blood. It dripped into a thin puddle on the floor. His fingers wrapped around the handle, and he pulled it out cleanly, then stuck it straight into Will's stomach.  
  
x x x x x  
  
Will woke up with a violent gasp. The dark setting around him began to materialize, and the soft sound of his wife breathing next to him calmed his own breaths down a bit. He swung his legs over the bed and decided to go check on Peony.  
  
He got to her door and cracked it open, then peeked inside.  
  
Then reality came back to him in a fierce, blood-spattered shudder: Peony was not there. And she would never again be there. Her glass of milk with a half-eaten biscuit lay on her table, on top of a sheet of paper and some watercolors, which had long since dried. She had been painting a flower, and had only finished the first stroke on the last petal before the illustration would have been complete. He supposed that she had heard Jack come into the house before she could finish her painting.  
  
Will started to cry, leaning his head against the doorframe as the dead and immobile truth sunk in. She would never be there to kiss him in the morning, to begin singing Christmas carols in August, brush her mother's hair, or finish that flower. Peony would never finish her flower.  
  
x x x x x  
  
The thing that Jack hated most about watching Peony die was how long it took; how much pain she must have been in. She had been shot once in the chest, and a thick spray of blood spattered against Jack's face. The pain in his own chest from the dagger seemed nonexistent at the moment, as he watched the girl who had been his heart and soul choking on her own blood on the deck of his own ship.  
  
"Jack," Peony sobbed, "Jack it hurts..."  
  
The young girl pushed herself up onto her hands and crawled into Jack's lap. The sight tore him to shreds. Her innocent little body was now so broken, so tainted, when it had hours before been as pure as white cream. Seeing her drag herself on her stomach into his protection as if she were some wounded animal was horrifying. He thought he had been crying, but he couldn't be sure, as he wrapped her as tight as he could in his arms.  
  
He heard Luciana say something, though he couldn't tell what it was, and he heard her footsteps crossing around and then another shot was fired.  
  
The bullet grazed the area between Jack's right arm and his torso, and hit Peony squarely beneath the eye. There was a startled scream, and her body went limp.  
  
The dizzying pain of the silver lodged in his chest finally buzzed throughout his veins, and he leaned in onto Peony's body and lost consciousness.  
  
But he was awake now; covered in sand that stung his open wounds, staring absentmindedly at the sky. It would be dawn soon.  
  
He was too weak to move or think about anything. He had lost so much blood that the end seemed like it was coming soon--and Jack was eagerly awaiting it.  
  
He thought he heard footsteps, and a bright light suddenly flashed in his eyes. He only stared back up at it blankly.  
  
"Are you all right, sir?"  
  
Jack didn't return an answer.  
  
x x x x x  
  
Will visited Jack in the hospital the next day, the day after Peony's service--an event which Elizabeth had not attended.  
  
Norrington sat in a chair next to Jack's room in the hallway, with his arms crossed and a morose look on his face, similar to as he had in Will's dream.  
  
"How's he doing?" Will asked.  
  
"Not well," Norrington answered. "The wounds should recover in a few days..."  
  
"Well, that's something," said Will, confused. "Something good, I should say, isn't it?"  
  
Norrington sighed, stared up at the ceiling and then down at the floor. "Will, Jack isn't...well, he's not the same as he used to be."  
  
"What?" Norrington's words had passed through Will's brain slowly. What on earth did that mean? "Not the same? How?"  
  
"He's obviously lost it. He's finally snapped, I suppose. The madness he's been suffering from all this time has now gone to its full extent, and he taking your daughter's life proves that."  
  
"Jack didn't kill Peony!" The words came out harsher--and louder--than Will had meant, but he knew it. From the bottom of his soul, he knew that it was impossible. Jack just couldn't have.  
  
Norrington only gave a brief shrug.  
  
Will stared at the door. He inhaled deeply, turned the handle and stepped inside, shutting it behind him.  
  
"Fool," Norrington muttered.  
  
Jack was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring out the window on the wall opposite Will. He made no impression indicating that he had noticed the former blacksmith's presence.  
  
"Jack?" asked Will at last. He slowly started to step around the bed and finally caught sight of Jack's face. He was gazing outside looking cold and confused, as if waiting something to happen. "Jack?" Will repeated.  
  
"Jack." The pirate spoke his own name softly. "Jack, it hurts..."  
  
"What?"  
  
At last Jack's eyes crept over to meet Will's bewildered gaze, and he noticed something wasn't quite right in the pirate's eyes. He wasn't just wounded of the body; his soul had been bruised--badly.  
  
"Hello, Master Turner." Jack's voice was barley a whisper.  
  
"Hello, Jack." Will didn't quite know what to say now. Do you feel better? Have you gotten enough to eat? Did you murder my daughter? "How...how are-- "  
  
"I wanted it to happen quickly," said Jack, "and it just...it wouldn't..." He leaned his torso down to his knees and hung his head over, pressing both hands on the back of his neck. It looked as if he were crying.  
  
"I don't understand," said Will softly. He reached over to touch Jack's shoulder, but the pirate jerked up suddenly and shoved Will's hand away.  
  
"Don't touch me," he spat coarsely.  
  
Will was taken aback by Jack's sudden anger. It wasn't like him to act this brazen with his friends. "What's wrong, Jack?" It came out more timid than he intended.  
  
Jack went back to staring out the window. "She wants to leave me here."  
  
"Who?"  
  
The pirate suddenly let out a soft tickle of laughter, one that sounded easygoing--but by the circumstances, it frightened Will. "Don't touch me."  
  
"I'm not touching you," answered Will, fear oozing off his voice. "Jack, what's wrong?"  
  
"I don't want to..."  
  
"Jack, what are you talking about?"  
  
"Jack," he moaned loudly, "Jack, it hurts..."  
  
"Stop it--"  
  
Jack's whole body shuddered spontaneously and he fell to the floor, and then with what seemed like intense difficulty, began to crawl towards Will. "Bang!" he hollered, giving Will a jolt, and the pirate's body stopped moving for a seconds. He looked up at the startled Will and let out a chilling grin. "Did you tie the ribbons in her hair?"  
  
"Wh-what?"  
  
Jack's smile slowly lost its weight and curled into a grave line, and he went limp on the ground again, leaning his face into his arms; after a few seconds began to weep into the floor. "I'm so sorry," he moaned, "so sorry..."  
  
Will was terrified. He had never seen his friend in such a broken state, and he crouched down to Jack's level and slowly hoisted him up to a sitting position. Jack didn't protest. He was now letting out short, frantic sobs as the black kohl trickled down his face. Will put his arm around his shoulders.  
  
"It's all right," he said gently, "it's all right..."  
  
Jack's gaze turned cold again, and he stared at Will with wet, bloodshot eyes. "Do you know how she felt, Will?"  
  
"How who felt?"  
  
"I thought it was strange how they left me here," Jack said, his tone fading. "I thought for sure they'd leave me to die."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Stop touching me!" Jack hollered, twitching violently and ending about three inches further away from the startled Will.  
  
"Jack, I haven't--"  
  
"You don't know!" The pirate stood up, pouring sweat and clenching his fists. "You have no idea how she felt! How she was trembling, how cold she was, how it felt against me when her breathing stopped. How her blood tasted. You have no idea, no idea..."  
  
The sobs were coming back. Jack appeared as if he wanted to walk towards the door, but his knees buckled and he slowly slumped to the ground helplessly. "I never wanted...I never..."  
  
"I should go," said Will numbly, standing up and walking briskly past the weeping Jack to the front door, until the pirate's voice halted him.  
  
"Jack, it hurts! Jack it hurts!" The words escaped his lips in tight, out- of-breath howls, as if he were trying to suppress them unsuccessfully.  
  
"I'll be back soon," Will said. He slammed the door behind him, and when he left Jack began to scream harder.  
  
Will's life seemed to be unraveling. He felt stripped. Perhaps his greatest fear in the whole mess was what Norrington had said was seemingly coming true in a violent, horrifying manner: Jack was losing his mind. 


	4. Decay

The Deepest Circle  
  
Plot: Jack has been betrayed yet again by another treacherous shipmate, and he starts to believe that his old friends are beginning to turn on him, too. How can they prove to him otherwise before he goes mad with hate?  
  
Chapter Rating: R. I REPEAT, this chapter is rated R for brief strong language and a racy sex scene.  
  
Author's Notes: Here's where you get some of the dirt on Luciana, and Jack starts to fall. This chapter is quick, but crucial.  
  
x x x x x  
  
Somewhere along the lines, it became clear to Jack that he was slipping. The minute he'd felt life twitch out of Peony's young body, something within him had snapped--but not on its own. Jack had pushed it, somehow. Now it was only a matter of time. A drool cup in the future seemed inevitable, and Jack laughed at the thought of seeing his broken soul encased in his wretched body, bobbing back and forth in a rocking chair with a thin wet sliver spilling out of the corner of his mouth.  
  
He did become frightened, though, when the laugh that escaped his throat hardly sounded like it was his own.  
  
What puzzled him was that he wasn't experiencing symptoms of what he'd heard one goes through in the process of insanity. There were no voices. No hallucinations. But there was paranoia. He'd experienced that...  
  
'Don't touch me!'  
  
But Will hadn't been touching him earlier. Something was, though...something cold was holding onto him, something cold and ticklish, irritating, like an icy feather gliding up and down his arm.  
  
Were physical sensations a part of madness? Not that he'd heard of. Had he really been so worked up that his nervous system was beginning to imagine-- no, create--these odd sensations?  
  
Maybe there was a voice. Maybe there were hallucinations. Maybe Will visiting him earlier was just a false vision. Hell, maybe this whole room was. Maybe he was still there, still on the deck, the sun setting in his skin with a dead girl in his arms. Her hot blood on his face, a ringing in his ears...  
  
Maybe all these things were really happening, he just wasn't realizing it. But deep down, he sort of hoped for it. He would rather have a voice taunting him and driving him insane rather then his own brain beginning to malfunction and slowly decay and dissolve into a state of madness all by itself. All alone. Cap'n Jack, all alone with his rotten brain.  
  
It was night outside now, he noticed. Or maybe it wasn't.  
  
"Stop it, Jack old boy," he murmured to himself aloud. "These are the kinds of things that will drive you off the starboard side. Contradicting all that seems to be. It's not right. Accept what's in front of you..."  
  
Accept that you aided in the murder of your best friend's child.  
  
His thoughts receded back to Luciana. Luciana Doria, that's what her name was. Jack found thinking about her only pressed on his wounds further, but he continued. Why not blaze up the road of hysteria as fast as possible, rather than wait for it to blanket you slowly? The quicker the better, he mused.  
  
She'd put something in his drink the night they'd met at a bar in Tortuga. Something that made his insides melt and his skin turn overwhelmingly hot. In fact for a good thirty minutes he thought he'd come down with a fatal fever and would be dead within the hour. He wasn't, of course, but in a thick, silver haze, he could remember Luciana pulling him to the top of the stairs in a bar, and begin to fuck him in the long hallway that led to a bunch of inn rooms. He went along with it. It had been a while since he'd gotten laid, and even if he wanted to stop her, the drug had coaxed his senses to a blank, trancelike state. He felt numb and sickeningly complacent as she pushed him to the floor in the middle of the hall and began to ride him shamelessly. Jolts of pleasure shot up his body, but they were somewhat subdued, on account of the toxins swirling about in his brain.  
  
He remembered some man shouting at them to quit it and go on about their business in one of the rooms, so Luciana got off of Jack and opened the door to a messy little chamber and dragged him inside, and continued her "lovemaking," though you could scarcely call it that.  
  
Then she started her kisses. They latched her mouth onto his, and her tongue felt warm with the faint trace of liquor in his mouth. He began kissing her back. Her lips detached and she began kissing him softly down the rest of his body, which she was now undressing, until she finally got to the area between his legs. She stopped then.  
  
"Oh, Jack," she moaned. She started to laugh manically, after she mounted him again. "Kiss me, Jack, kiss me..."  
  
He obeyed, helplessly. The sex was good. At least then it seemed good...but in his state, he could've shot his own mother and laughed at the sight of her bleeding corpse. He shouldn't be doing this, he realized. This wasn't right. He didn't even know this girl.  
  
The drug was wearing off.  
  
"Get off of me," Jack muttered, giving her a slight push. She rolled over and bumped her head gently against the nightstand next to the bed and giggled.  
  
"What's the matter, Captain?" she asked, getting back on top of him. "Lost the urge to uncover some buried treasure?"  
  
Then Jack's old self kicked in. What the hell was he doing? Of course he wanted her to keep going. She was a pretty girl, and this was sex she was talking about. Nothing too unpleasant at all. "Hmm, no. I don't think so, love."  
  
She giggled again, leaned in and kissed him for a long time. After a bit more riding, she sighed and leaned in onto Jack's body, resting her head on his shoulder, his member still alive and kicking inside of her. "I'm tired," she breathed. "Carry me to bed."  
  
"You've got to get off of me first."  
  
"Says who?"  
  
Jack grinned and pressed his fingers gently beneath her buttocks, picked her up. She pressed against him hard as he pulled her to a standing position and he gasped aloud. The pleasure was enormous. He pulled himself onto the mattress, Luciana along, and they romped for another half hour or so. Then she fell asleep.  
  
Jack left her sleeping at around ten the next morning, feeling rather refreshed, expecting not to see her again. But he did.  
  
Luciana had run into him the next night at another bar. He hadn't realized it was her, however, until the drug wore off a second time in a bedroom, discovering her lying naked next to him in bed. She had given him twice the amount she had than the night before. Jack didn't know he was being drugged. He presumed it was the alcohol, or just his lousy memory. It wasn't until he'd spotted her with his own eyes slip a clear liquid into his bottle of rum on the fifth night that he'd noticed. He slapped her.  
  
It was that night when Luciana told him that if he didn't go along with her little games, someday she would ruin everything for him. "I'll make you wish you'd never been born, you fucking cunt!" she hollered at him, throwing whatever she could in his direction. She was a plain nutcase. Jack knew one when he saw one. Though soon, Jack feared the phrase he'd use instead would be "takes one to know one."  
  
What if Jack's own insanity--if he was indeed going crazy, that is--turned him into that someday? A handsome lunatic who went around tropical bars, slipping hypnotic drugs into pretty girls' drinks and screwing them till dawn? He supposed that Luciana's main objective was to increase the dose each night for Jack until he'd been drugged so senseless that it killed him. And then she'd move to the next man. It was the only conclusion he could draw up.  
  
Unless there was some underlying objective; some reason invisible to Jack's eye as to why she'd seduced him in such a blunt, crude manner, and then want to plunge him down into darkness. Revenge, maybe. But Jack hadn't ever seen this girl in his life, and couldn't possibly know what she would have against him.  
  
A few days later, she showed up in Jack's cabin as the Black Pearl was about to pull away from Tortuga with a pistol pressed to his head. She said she wanted to kidnap the daughter of "the Turner family" and extort the money. Then they'd have their child returned once she received the gold, and Luciana would disappear from the Pearl and leave Jack alone. The terms were somewhat reasonable, and he agreed. Jack took oaths seriously, expecting them to be fulfilled.  
  
Apparently, Luciana was not a girl of her word. She wanted to make Jack fall. Hard.  
  
And he did. What Jack didn't realize, sitting awake in his hospital bed at two o'clock in the morning, was that the pain was just beginning. 


	5. Strings

The Deepest Circle (Chapter 5)  
  
Plot: Jack has been betrayed yet again by another treacherous shipmate, and he starts to believe that his old friends are beginning to turn on him, too. How can they prove to him otherwise before he goes mad with hate?  
  
Chapter Rating: PG-13, for thematic elements.  
  
Author's Notes: None really. Just hope you enjoy. :)  
  
x x x x x  
  
Will decided to try again. He visited Jack the next morning at around ten o'clock.  
  
Although he felt there was little reason for it, Will was frightened. Elizabeth seemed to have turned into a completely different person. The changes weren't enormous. She didn't wear all black with a thin veil over her face, she didn't spend half the day praying with a rosary dangling in her hand, but she had changed. Not many people saw it, but Will did.  
  
She didn't smile. She didn't kiss him in the morning or curl into his arms at night. Her skin was cold, her hair was limp, her eyes were sad. Will begged her to pour out her feelings to him, but all she would reply was, "There's nothing. Nothing at all."  
  
Will's world was crumbling. The people he loved were fading away, because they all revolved around a single little girl--a girl who was now dead; murdered. And Elizabeth was still convinced that Jack was the culprit.  
  
Jack's sorrow and behavior was overwhelming the day before, but Will supposed that soon it would be nothing the pirate couldn't handle. Anyone would have reacted the same if he were a witness to the death of a child that had mattered the world to him. But Will couldn't be sure. Unlike Elizabeth, Jack was releasing his anger, his frustration, his sadness quite openly. And although that was generally a good form of therapy, Will wasn't so positive that it would help Jack much. Just because he let it out didn't mean it would disappear.  
  
Jack was sitting on his bed, same as he had been the day before, though Norrington wasn't present.  
  
"Jack?" Will's voice was slightly shaky.  
  
This time Jack reacted, to Will's great relief. He turned around, but his expression gave no cause for rejoicing. He looked terrible. His eyes were bloodshot, and his cheeks were stained red--from tears, perhaps--and he looked completely blank, almost drugged.  
  
Will recoiled for a second, then took a few steps forward and sat on the edge of the bed.  
  
"Jack--"  
  
"What do you want, Will?" asked Jack, a sad sigh in his voice. He glanced down at his hands, which were tied around the wrists with thin straps of leather. Will was shocked.  
  
"They...they bound your wrists?"  
  
Jack's eyebrows raised slightly, and he looked at Will. "Did they?"  
  
"Jack, what...what did you do?"  
  
He shrugged. "Nothing."  
  
"Well, you must have done something. They don't just tie your wrists at a hospital for no reason."  
  
"Don't they?"  
  
Will stood up, cracked open the door. A woman in one of the nurse's uniforms was passing by. "Excuse me, miss?"  
  
"Yes?" she stopped to look at him.  
  
"Why are this man's hands tied?"  
  
She looked puzzled. "Excuse me?"  
  
"Come have a look." He led her inside and asked Jack to hold up his wrists. He obeyed. The nurse looked just as flabbergasted as Will had.  
  
"Goodness...nobody here did that, I can assure you. Perhaps he did it himself."  
  
"Himself? How could he have tied his hands together with no help?"  
  
"I...I don't know, sir." She approached Jack slowly and asked him if she could remove the leather straps. Jack shrugged.  
  
In a few minutes, the bindings came off, and she gave a loud gasp. "Oh, Jesus..."  
  
"What?" Will leaned in and had to stifle a gasp of his own. Where the leather had once been, there were now deep, infected gashes around both wrists. The blood had clotted slightly, but most of it was still wet, and there were grimy yellow patches of skin outlining the cuts. "Jack...what did you..."  
  
"I'll fetch the doctor," said the nurse quickly. She rushed out of the room.  
  
"How did you do this?" Will didn't notice that he was shouting. "Why?"  
  
"Peony," said Jack gently.  
  
Will stopped dead. A part of Will's heart seemed stolen away, and at the moment, anger clouded all his thoughts. "What do you mean 'Peony?'" he screamed. "She's dead, Jack! Peony's dead! She's got two bullets in her and she's rotting in the ground! And it's your fault!"  
  
The last bit suddenly forced Will to realize that he'd gone too far. Jack didn't seem moved, however. He only stared back at him guiltily.  
  
That was the word Will was looking for to describe Jack's expression.  
  
Guilt.  
  
"I...I know..." Jack whispered at last. He looked back down at his grossly infected wrists. "I know it's my fault, Will. And I'm sorry."  
  
"What's wrong with you?" Will managed to subdue his harsh tone, and he knelt by the side of the bed. "Why are you acting so...strangely?"  
  
Jack licked his lips slowly. His pink tongue was coated with an unusually thick glaze of saliva. "I don't want to be here anymore." He sounded out of breath. "I don't...I don't like it..."  
  
"Jack, you have to stay. You're wounded badly. And now you've got this mess..." Will took his hands and brushed his thumbs gently over the cuts. Jack let out a hiss of pain and drew his hands back sharply.  
  
"Take me home, Will, please. Take me home."  
  
"Stop it; you're acting like a child. There's no need for that."  
  
"Will, please..." Jack put his hands on Will's shoulders. Even through the dense fabric of his shirt, he could feel the chill of the pirate's fingers. His dark eyes glistened as he stared at Will for a few seconds.  
  
Pity tugged on the strings of Will's heart. Jack was broken, perhaps beyond repair, and yet this was no place for him. He needed to be somewhere where he knew he was being loved; supported, nurtured...he needed to feel like everything would be okay. And a cold hospital room was certainly no place for that. "All right, I'll see what I can do."  
  
There was a quick knock at the door, and the doctor--a tall man with blonde hair and large eyes--stepped into the room. He wore a uniform of dark black, with ruffled white sleeves and a high collar. "Mr. Turner, is it?"  
  
"Yes," answered Will, standing up. He felt Jack's hands on his shoulders slowly drop off of him.  
  
"Right. Well, Mr. Turner, I'll need to you to leave the room for a few moments. I'll have to stitch up those cuts round his wrists. He's lucky the strip didn't go too deep." He peered past Will to look at Jack's exposed wounds. "It could have hit the arteries."  
  
Jack was staring at the doctor coldly.  
  
"Excuse me, Dr..." began Will. He trailed off, as he didn't know the doctor's name.  
  
"Dr. Hansbury."  
  
"Dr. Hansbury, I was wondering when Jack will be able to be released."  
  
"Well, you can take him once I've finished the stitches. But may I remind you that he must take it easy. His body has been through much toil. He'll need lots of rest."  
  
"I understand." Will smiled at the doctor. "Thank you." He shut the door behind him.  
  
He sat on the bench outside for a half an hour patiently, until the doctor emerged and instructed Will to wash the stitches daily for two weeks, and confirmed that Jack could leave.  
  
"Come on," said Will, entering the hospital room once more. "You're free to go." He offered Jack his best smile, but the pirate didn't seem too interested. He picked his hat off the table, set it on his head, and both left the building.  
  
x x x x x  
  
Elizabeth lay on her large bed with a pale handkerchief in her hand. She was crying. Her hair was loose and was scattered in greasy waves on the pillows, trembling, as she was. She let out a choked sob into the bed and hit the mattress hard with her fist.  
  
She only mourned when her husband was out of the house. She knew he was feeling terrible, and she thought it better to contain her grief for another time. She didn't want to make Will feel worse.  
  
She couldn't bring herself to admit to anyone--even herself--that Peony was dead. The fact was inconceivable, and it still hadn't sunk in so deeply. Every morning when Elizabeth woke up, Peony was alive. She was tucked under two blankets, two pillows propped below her neck, gold hair spilling over to the side, dreaming. Dreaming with brain that was living, a heart that was beating, lungs that were breathing. But minutes would pass each morning, and truth rammed into her like a raging horse: her daughter wasn't there. Her little Peony. She had so much time. So many hopes, so much to live for, to look forward to, to dream of...  
  
But no. Not anymore. Now she lay asleep underground, in a foreign box, all by herself, six feet below everything. A dead brain. Dead heart. Dead lungs. Dead dreams.  
  
Elizabeth's throat start to hurt from her sobs that sounded more like screams. She thought of that god-damned Jack Sparrow. He had killed her daughter; there was no question in her mind. No one else could have. He may not have had a reason, but since when did reason have anything to do with Jack? He was a madman, always was. Peony's death only proved it.  
  
"I hate him," she hissed, now hiccupping back a sob, "I hate him, I hate him, I hate him..." And oh, how she did. She could kill him. She could cut his throat and shoot him in the face, spit on him, rip out his eyes.  
  
Her breaths were coming out so short and quick, it sounded as if she were hyperventilating. Her face probably looked terrible, all swollen and red. She didn't care.  
  
The front door from downstairs opened.  
  
Elizabeth shot up and darted for the powder room, and turned on the running water. She wet a cloth and pressed it to her forehead, cheeks...  
  
"Elizabeth?" It was Will.  
  
"I'm coming," she called shakily. She turned and glanced at her self in the mirror. She looked slightly disheveled, but not as if she'd just been breaking down. She hurriedly left the bedroom and stepped onto the balcony of the stairs, and began, "I thought you would be..."  
  
Jack.  
  
That was the first thing she noticed. Jack was standing next to Will.  
  
He looked pale, tired, confused, blank. But it didn't matter to Elizabeth at all. She stopped dead in her tracks and stared at him. His gaze was off somewhere else, but he slowly seemed to feel her eyes on him, and they drifted upwards. His stare was cold and empty.  
  
"Will..." she breathed slowly. Her husband stepped in front of Jack, as if he were accepting the blame.  
  
"Elizabeth, don't."  
  
"Will, you...you brought him..."  
  
"Stop it. Jack had nothing to do with--"  
  
"You bastard!" she screamed. In the blink of an eye she was down the stairs and in front of the pirate, slapping his chest, shoulders, face, sobbing uncontrollably. The sight of him had started a wildfire that would probably take hours to extinguish. "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"  
  
"Elizabeth, stop it!" Will seized her arms and pulled her away, but Jack simply stared back at her with his lips parted slightly. He looked somewhat shocked, but still he had the almost trance-like expression on his face.  
  
"I won't!" she hollered. "I won't! I'll kill him! I'll kill you for what you did to her!"  
  
A small thread of blood spilled from his nose, and she had split his bottom lip. Elizabeth's eyes fell down to his wrists, and she stifled a gasp. There were thick black stitches in a criss-cross shape all around each of them like bracelets; as if his hands themselves had fallen off and were sewn back on.  
  
"Kill me?" said Jack at last. The shocked expression didn't leave his face.  
  
"I will!" Elizabeth snarled back, still in her husband's grasp. "I'll kill you! I want you dead!"  
  
"It wasn't always that way." Now he gave a soft, sad smile that made her freeze. Made her remember how fond she used to be of him.  
  
She started to cry again.  
  
"Elizabeth," Will whispered. "Shh, it's all right..." He pulled his wife closer to him, and she covered her face with her hands.  
  
Jack looked Will in the eye, and after a few moments of hearing nothing but Elizabeth's frantic sobs, the pirate laughed weakly. "Look at us..."  
  
Elizabeth took her hands gently from her face. She stared at Jack, as did Will.  
  
"Look at us," repeated Jack emptily. "We're losing our minds." He turned his back and started up the stairs, and the couple heard the guest room door close tightly.  
  
Elizabeth and Will were left in each other's arms, and all went silent. 


	6. Pistol

The Deepest Circle (Chapter 6)  
  
Plot: Jack has been betrayed yet again by another treacherous shipmate, and he starts to believe that his old friends are beginning to turn on him, too. How can they prove to him otherwise before he goes mad with hate?  
  
Chapter Rating: PG-13, for intense thematic elements.  
  
Author's Notes: This chapter was hard to write. It's intense, and do keep in mind that it's not meant to be J/E. If you want to interpret it that way, it's fine, but I have no intentional innuendos in here. There's a moment where you may sense some romanticism, but brush if off if you want. It's no biggie. So yes, very intense chap. coming up. Do enjoy.  
  
x x x x x  
  
No one talked much that night. After all, there wasn't much to be said at all--anything positive, anyway. To Will's great relief, the commotion roaring in Elizabeth's heart seemed to have died down, but she refused to let Jack emerge from his room, even to eat. Normally Will would have dismissed her demands, but he didn't want to make her upset, and he brought Jack his dinner on a tray. The pirate was sleeping deeply, so Will left the meal on the table by the bed. He didn't enter the room again.  
  
Later on, Will had an appointment with some town officials to discuss "business," but somewhere in his heart he imagined it was simply going to be a half-hour filled with condolences. He left at seven o'clock in the evening, and that's when the trouble began.  
  
As soon as she heard the door shut, Elizabeth stopped reading her novel and put it down beside her bed. She got up and opened her husband's closet, then groped around on the top shelf.  
  
She took down her father's pistol.  
  
x x x x x  
  
Jack's eyes opened slowly when he heard the crack of the door. He turned around, and saw Elizabeth, tears clinging to her eyes, clutching a gun with fiercely trembling hands. She cocked it.  
  
Jack sat up and stared at her, until she screamed, "Stop it! Stop looking at me like that!"  
  
"Like what, love?" he asked gently.  
  
She was sobbing now, though the gun was still pointed at his head. "Stop!"  
  
"Elizabeth..." Jack threw his legs over the side of the bed.  
  
She thrust the pistol forward suddenly then drew it back, as if it were a warning. "Don't come any closer! Don't! I'll shoot you!"  
  
"Elizabeth," he repeated. He sounded unbearably sympathetic, and it was the last thing she wanted.  
  
"Don't pity me," she hissed. "Don't pity me, you filth."  
  
He stood up.  
  
"Stop!" Her fingers spread onto the very tip of the trigger, and she choked back a sob. "Stop or I'll kill you, Jack! I'll kill you!"  
  
"Go ahead, then. Kill me." He took a step towards her.  
  
Elizabeth's knees almost buckled, and she began to sink to the floor until she caught herself. "Jack, please..." Her voice trickled out of her lips in soft moans.  
  
Another step.  
  
"Stop it!" Her voice rose to a scream again. "Stop it, Jack, stop it!"  
  
Soon enough, he was standing only inches in front of her. Her arms were fully extended in front of her with the pistol, and the barrel of it was tightly pressed against Jack's heart.  
  
"Do it," he said quietly.  
  
Elizabeth's hands seemed the same temperature as the freezing metal in her hand. She had never been shaking so hard, feeling her old friend's weight against the end of a death machine...  
  
"Do it," he repeated, stronger than before.  
  
She stared Jack dead in the eye. Remembering his smile, his laugh...  
  
'Why, Miss Swann. What a pleasant surprise. Aren't you looking pretty this morning?'  
  
"Do it!" Jack was the one screaming now, so loudly that she jumped. She shook harder and started to cry again, but the barrel didn't budge from his chest. "Do it! Shoot me!"  
  
"Jack," she breathed, "Jack, you killed her..."  
  
He stopped now, panting, looking broken and grieved. "Your daughter was my reason to live, Miss Swann. If I killed her..." Faster than she could stop him, Jack snatched the gun from Elizabeth's hands and pressed the barrel against his temple. "If I killed her..." He forced the gun now onto his forehead, took Elizabeth's hand and placed it back on the trigger. "Then shoot me, Elizabeth. Please."  
  
Minutes--though they seemed like hours--passed between them. Their eyes remained locked together. Jack was motionless, staring at the woman with his hard, trancelike gaze...a look she had seen before. Right as the bullet passed through Barbossa's chest. Jack was giving her the same expression...all the pain was there. Her eyes subconsciously began to study him. Around his wrist was the multicolored bracelet of hearts Peony had made for him last Christmas, overlapping the jagged, black stitches that he'd obtained just hours before. His shirt was ragged and dirty. She could make out a fresh scar that tore along the opposite side of his chest from his heart. All this punishment, all this pain...  
  
Jack hadn't killed her daughter.  
  
She was amazed at how long this revelation took to dawn on her. She had no proof, of course, but in Jack's eyes she saw torment, sorrow, guilt, loss...these were not the emotions of a killer. The bracelet of hearts caused tears to prickle at her eyes. He wore that as a sign of his devotion, his fondness, his love...for Jack loved Peony. By god, he loved her.  
  
The gun slid from Elizabeth's hand and fell to the floor. She wept and leaned in onto Jack's chest, clinging to him for all she was worth. "I'm sorry," she sobbed, "I'm so sorry, Jack..."  
  
He gently brushed his hands against her shoulders as he kissed her forehead. He let her cry. 


	7. Drown

The Deepest Circle (Chapter 7)  
  
Plot: Jack has been betrayed yet again by another treacherous shipmate, and he starts to believe that his old friends are beginning to turn on him, too. How can they prove to him otherwise before he goes mad with hate?  
  
Chapter Rating: PG-13, for intense thematic elements and a disturbing/grotesque scene.  
  
Author's Notes: This chapter was, well, also hard to write. It took a bit of a toll on me, but hopefully all of you will enjoy it. It'll be angsty enough, at least. And please do know that I do not intend any Will/Jack in this chapter, though if you want to interpret it that way, be my guest. Enjoy.  
  
x x x x x  
  
Elizabeth fell asleep in Jack's arms on his bed. Nothing had passed between them at all, only her soft sobs and silence.  
  
She smelled so much like Peony, Jack realized, a part of him recoiling in pain. Like rose petals caught in a flame. Such a delicate scent.  
  
She looked so much like her daughter, too. Especially now, as she lay limp in his arms, Jack thought with a growing uneasiness. The image of a beautiful young girl curled up against his chest, eyes closed...it struck such a familiar nerve...  
  
"Stop it," Jack murmured to himself. "Stop it."  
  
A few moments later, Jack rested his arms beneath Elizabeth's knees and picked her up. He carried her down the long, dark hallway, the windows pinning thin shafts of moonlight against the wall. He got to her room and tucked her in bed properly, then started to retreat back to his quarters, until he caught something out of the corner of his eye on the stair balcony. Will was standing in the doorway, arms tucked in from of him, looking at Jack in a slightly confused manner.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
Jack looked down at him for some time, and then said, "I tried to kill myself. She stopped me."  
  
Will stared back, and then his eyes slowly drifted down to the ground. "How?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"How did you...try to...?" Will cleared his throat.  
  
"Gun," he said briefly. "Goodnight, Will."  
  
Jack continued on straight into his room and slammed the door. Will jumped at the sound.  
  
Jack leaned against the door behind him and slid down it slowly, and when he hit the floor he pressed his forehead to his knees and let out a muffled groan. He threw his head back to look at his wrists, tightly stitched all the way around with thick black string.  
  
"Why did you do it?" he asked himself blankly. "Why the hell did you do it?"  
  
A china pitcher was lying on the floor next to the nightstand. Jack seized it and threw it across the room, and it shattered on the opposite wall.  
  
"Why!" he hollered, banging his fists on the floor. "Why did you...!"  
  
Jack held his wrist up to his mouth and pinched one of the stitches between his teeth and shook furiously. The wound began to leak blood, like a pierced barrel filled with water.  
  
He didn't notice the door opening behind him.  
  
"Jack...?" Will looked absently around, then saw Jack tearing his wrists apart with his teeth on the floor. Blood was spurting everywhere. "Jack! Jack, stop it!"  
  
Will grabbed his friend by the shoulders and pinned him to the ground, trying to separate his mouth from his bleeding wrists. "Stop it!" When Jack went limp, Will stood up and backed away slightly. "What are you doing?" he cried. "What in God's name are you doing?"  
  
Jack was panting, sweaty, dirty, bleeding, crying, laughing... "I don't want to do this anymore," he breathed, so quietly Will could barely hear him.  
  
"Do what?"  
  
What definitely sounded like disgruntled laughs echoed from Jack's throat, and he looked up slightly at Will.  
  
"Jack, it wasn't your fault," Will said gently a moment later.  
  
"Wasn't it?" asked Jack angrily. He sat up, and there was an ugly rasp to his breathing. He was getting weaker.  
  
"Who did it, Jack? Who killed Peony?" Will's tone was soft but stern. "I don't want to have to ask you again."  
  
"Your daughter," said Jack slowly, "will not come back, Will, whether you know who killed her or not. What difference does it make?"  
  
"I want justice done," Will answered tightly.  
  
"Justice won't be done."  
  
"It will be. It always is--"  
  
"Stop it, Will!" Jack hollered hoarsely. He stood up. It took a lot of effort, but he stood up, and began to limp out of the bedroom. "Stop..." Suddenly his voice sounded like a child's. It was thin, tired, frightened...  
  
He stopped at the doorframe and leaned against it, blood dripping into a tiny puddle on the floor. It ran down his hands like red rivers.  
  
"I wish I'd told her," he said after a few moments, staring off at something distant, "how much you loved her."  
  
Will watched his friend with something hot beginning to gather in the corners of his eyes. "Jack..."  
  
"I mean I told her," Jack continued, "but not enough. Just one more time. If she could have heard one more thing..." He abruptly hit the doorframe with his bleeding fist and turned so his back was facing Will.  
  
"I'm going to call a doctor," Will said. Jack started to slide towards the floor.  
  
"No doctors," Jack said slowly, coughing. "No doctors."  
  
"Jack, you--"  
  
Jack's eyes closed and he gave a brief gasp. "I wish you could've seen her face when I said she could board the Pearl. Her eyes lit up. She looked so beautiful."  
  
Will hurriedly went to the door and caught Jack just before he hit the ground. He lay him down so the pirate's head was resting on his thigh. Blood still flowed heavily from his wrists. "Shh. I'll sew you up. No doctors. All right?"  
  
Jack's eyes opened and he gazed up at Will, clutched his arm. "I don't want to do this anymore," he said again.  
  
"Do what?"  
  
"Live," he said softly after a few seconds. Will held him tighter.  
  
"Stop that," he answered quietly. "You don't mean it."  
  
"I do, though," Jack moaned, "with all my heart."  
  
"We can't waste time," said Will, "you're fading. I'll be right back with some thread and a needle. Don't move."  
  
Even if he wanted to, Jack couldn't move anyway. His body and mind were far too exhausted. The pain of reopening his wounds had now caught up to him, and his head was spinning from the blood loss. He felt the weight of Will's thigh vanish from beneath his neck, and he heard distant, quick footsteps.  
  
He stared up at the ceiling with heavy eyes. His breaths became deeper. When Will returned no more than forty seconds later, Jack was asleep.  
  
Will crouched down next to him. This would be easier, now that Jack was unconscious; he wouldn't have to deal with the pain.  
  
He slowly began to stitch. He'd gotten the thickest piece of thread he could find, although it wasn't black--it was red. Which made it difficult to tell where the wound ended and the string began, but Will managed to stitch it up pretty well. It would take at least a day or two for Jack to regain the amount of blood he'd lost.  
  
Jack picked his friend up with great difficultly and rested him down on the bed as carefully as he could.  
  
He spent the rest of the night wiping up the blood.  
  
x x x x x  
  
That night, Jack dreamt.  
  
He saw the figure of a little girl, her back to him, her head bent towards the ground. Her dirty blonde hair was pulled up messily with a soiled blue ribbon. A dress that was almost a surreal-looking bright yellow, trimmed with lace, covered her small body. Her legs and feet were bare. Jack noticed how dreadfully pale her skin looked...  
  
She didn't have to turn around for Jack to realize that the girl was Peony. But when she did turn to look at him, he wanted more than anything to get as far away as possible.  
  
One stitch, in a thick black X criss-crossed over her cheek where the bullet hole had once been. Her eyes were sunken deep into her skull, lined with bruised blue flesh; the eyes themselves seemed to burn. They were so full of hate, anger, ferocity...these were emotions Peony herself had never known.  
  
She didn't move her lips, but Jack seemed to hear a thin remnant of a voice snake along in whatever breeze there was: 'Jack...Jack it hurts...'  
  
Jack was trying to scream, but no sound escaped from his throat. He was willing to do anything--anything--to get that Peony thing to stop staring at him.  
  
Peony--or whatever it was--held up a the handle of a small knife between her thumb and index finger, one which Jack immediately recognized as the dagger she had used to stab Jack on the deck of the Pearl.  
  
Will's voice rang out: "He didn't waste it."  
  
Jack felt something hot spilling down his shirt. He ripped the buttons of it apart and looked down, only to find a gaping hole in his chest, blood beginning to sputter out in warm, red gushes. He glanced up again to look at Peony, except now he saw the figure of himself, staring back with one of the coldest gazes imaginable. A pistol was in his hand. Jack felt himself fall against the ground, and all warmth seemed to leave his body with the false breeze of his dreams.  
  
x x x x x  
  
While Jack was bearing the wrath of his subconscious, Will sat awake in bed, trying to deal with his own pain. He feared that if things kept up the way they were, he would lose his wits completely.  
  
He glanced down at his sleeping wife and rested his hand on her cream- colored skin. Feathers of the breaths escaping her mouth brushed against his flesh, and he sank down further beneath the sheets to watch her face as she slept.  
  
"I love you," he whispered at last, brushing a lock of her hair aside and giving her a long kiss on the forehead. Will realized he hadn't said those words to her since Peony died, and he wondered if perhaps now was the time that she needed to hear them most.  
  
But he also thought of Jack, alone in his room. Tearing out his wrists.  
  
Will was certain that if he hadn't stopped him, Jack would have eaten right through to his arteries and bled to death on the spot. But did it matter? Had Will actually done the right thing by letting Jack live?  
  
'Of course' was the correct answer, Will knew, but at what cost? He was only forcing darkness's curtain over Jack to hang longer. And the pirate had no comfort.  
  
Will didn't want that.  
  
He sat up slowly, taking care not to wake Elizabeth, and started quietly down the hall. He entered Jack's room quietly.  
  
He half-expected to find Jack dead inside, after have committing another atrocious act of self-hate--hanging from the chandelier; eating a pistol; something. To his great relief, the pirate was sleeping, his back turned to Will at the door. The deep breaths Jack was taking reassured him.  
  
Will sat down on the side of the bed and shook Jack gently.  
  
"Jack," he said softly. His friend woke up with a violent gasp and shot upright, breathing heavily. His face was moist with sweat.  
  
"Will," he said breathlessly after a few seconds. "Will..."  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing, nothing, I..." Jack's brow furrowed as he became lost in his own thoughts. He'd had a nightmare...something about Peony, anger, blood...  
  
"Are you feeling better?"  
  
Jack closed his eyes and gave a soft sigh, leaning back against the headboard of the bed. "I'm cold."  
  
"I'll get you a blanket--"  
  
"No, wait." Jack took a hold of Will's shoulder just as he was rising. "Stay here."  
  
Will looked at Jack curiously but obeyed. "Are you--"  
  
"I'm sorry," said Jack gently.  
  
"Jack...you don't need to be sorry about anything. This wasn't--"  
  
"I feel like," Jack began abruptly, "I'm drowning. Well, not drowning, but that I'm at the bottom of a black sea. And I can see the moon at the surface." He used subtle hand motions, and judging by his tone, Will thought, Jack might as well had been describing the room he was in, he was speaking so plainly. "And just when I get to the surface to take a breath, and throw my head up...there's just another sea there. An even darker one. And when I'm in that sea..." His hands dropped and his eyes fell to the floor. "I do things. Things that I don't mean to do."  
  
"I understand," said Will, not really understanding much at all.  
  
"Like this," he indicated towards his wrists. "I just seem to leave everything and go to some shadowy place...and suddenly everything becomes horrible, irrelevant, incomprehensible..."  
  
"Can't you control it?" asked Will. "Can't you just sort things out in your head? Know that what you did to yourself is wrong?"  
  
Jack's eyes met Will's again. "That's what frightens me. I don't...I don't know what to do...and when I do, it usually involves just more blood and confusion."  
  
Will suddenly had a rotten feeling in his gut. "You mean...you want to hurt other people?"  
  
"Sometimes," Jack replied softly. "Sometimes. But usually just to myself. I was such an idiot, Will...such an idiotic bastard..."  
  
"Don't say that," Will urged. Before he even knew what he was doing, he took Jack's hands. His blackened, tired, rough hands. "I know you didn't kill Peony."  
  
"With my own hands, no." Jack's voice had become a barely audible whisper, and his words hung in the air. Before Will could say anything, Jack said, "Do you remember her laugh?"  
  
Something painful tugged at Will's heart. "I'm forgetting."  
  
"Her singing?"  
  
"I'm forgetting that, as well."  
  
"Her face?"  
  
"No..." Will looked away from Jack at something distant. "No. I don't remember her face."  
  
"Yes," said Jack, "I thought you'd forgotten."  
  
Will glanced back up at Jack. The pirate's eyes were filled with an emotion of such tenderness and pain that Will had never seen before; it was guilt, angst, horror, pity, loss, sorrow...  
  
"I can't remember either." Jack's voice faltered at the end of his sentence. "And it's my fault..."  
  
"Stop it, Jack."  
  
"I can't," Jack said, shaking his head slightly. "Everything used to be so balanced out...so soft, peaceful, happy. And now...look at this. It's painful to even conjure a memory. I think even you would realize that. I can sense that you're going mad, Will. Elizabeth, too. And let's face it," Jack let out a pained smile, "I'm a beyond repair. I think we've all known that from the beginning."  
  
Will wanted to speak, but words couldn't find their way to his tongue. "You're not," he said hoarsely after a few moments. "You never were."  
  
"It doesn't do much good to deny everything I say," said Jack, but his tone had no bitterness to it. It was almost as if he wanted Will's words to be true. He leaned back against his headboard and said, "I'd like to sleep now. I'm tired."  
  
"All right," answered Will, feeling somewhat detached. He stood up and bid Jack a goodnight before he closed the door.  
  
When Will lay back down on his bed, he started to cry. 


	8. Fruit

The Deepest Circle (Chapter 8)

Plot: Jack has been betrayed yet again by another treacherous shipmate, and he starts to believe that his old friends are beginning to turn on him, too. How can they prove to him otherwise before he goes mad with hate?

Chapter Rating: PG-13, for a violent scene.

Author's Notes: I hope you enjoy this chapter, folks. It was hard to write, which is apparently becoming a popular theme recently. :) I want to give huuuuge hugs to my lovely beta, Merrie, for helping me inch ahead with this fic. You rock, love. 

x x x x x

Elizabeth went into Jack's room the next morning with a tray cluttered with his breakfast. She was overwhelmed by her own guilt and thought it would be a kind gesture towards Jack if she let him know just how sorry she really was. 

Jack woke up when she entered. He moaned loudly when she opened the drapes, flooding an overwhelming amount of the warm Caribbean sun into the room.

"Sorry," said Elizabeth quickly. "I've made you breakfast."

Jack sat up and stared at her for a moment, as if he'd forgotten her name, but he gave her a warm smile. "Thank you, love. That was sweet of you."

She smiled back at him and put the tray on his lap. "I've got to go sort out something with the gardener now, but I'll...well, see you later, I suppose."

She started out the door until she heard Jack's voice say quietly, "You look very lovely in that dress."

Elizabeth stopped and turned back to look at the pirate, but he seemed quite preoccupied with his food. "Thank you," she said, in a voice that was barely a whisper, and left the room feeling sad for a reason she couldn't place. 

x x x x x

Jack was dressed at around 11 am, and it was shortly after that time when the doorbell rang. He heard Elizabeth answer it.

"James," she said in a tone that was plagued with slight unenthusiasm. "What can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to check up on you." Norrington's rich voice echoed through the large walls of the main hall, and Jack left his room and started down the stairs. "I thought that you could use some..." The commodore's voice trailed off when he caught sight of the pirate. "What's he doing here?" 

Elizabeth didn't appreciate the sharp pang in his voice when he spoke. "James--"

"I thought he was in the hospital," said Norrington in an almost breathless manner. Jack stood at the foot of the stairs, staring. 

"He was," said Elizabeth bluntly, "but he's better, apparently."

"You know you shouldn't keep him here," muttered Norrington. "He's not safe; he should be kept somewhere where he's under control."

"He's not an animal," Elizabeth said hotly.

"Elizabeth, after what he did to Pe--"

"Jack had nothing to do with that." Elizabeth's voice had suddenly reached a cold, harsh whisper that neither Norrington nor Jack had expected. "If you have a point to this visit, commodore, then please illustrate it. I will not simply stand here listening to you blathering on and accusing an innocent man of the murder of my child." 

"Elizabeth," said Norrington slowly, his harsh tone receding a bit. "Surely you must see it. Sparrow is a madman, it can't be any simpler. He is the only person that was seen with your daughter before she was killed."

"Except the killer himself," she hissed coldly. "Now if you'll excuse me, commodore."

Elizabeth slammed the door in Norrinton's face.

She turned around to say something to Jack until the words died on her tongue, and she hurried into the kitchen.

The pirate still stared at the door silently. 

x x x x x

Elizabeth asked Jack if he would kindly purchase some fruit for her down at the main market near the docks. Jack agreed, she gave him the money, and he was off.

x x x x x

Jack's fear of himself was increasing. He feared falling into darkness, losing control; his sense of rationality, reason, thought, sense...all of that disappeared when death came calling for him.

Death's voice was hypnotic and inescapable. It would often knock disguised as false hope. "The only choice" was suicide. His mind tricked him endlessly. It had become his own worst enemy, and he had nowhere to hide at all. 

His thoughts had once been of the wide and normal variety; beautiful, ugly, stupid, ingenious, unique, boring; they now each seemed blank and empty. He tried not to think about anything too long, or stray out of thoughts that he knew were safe; if he did, he would lose it. And he just might hurt himself again, or someone else.

Death's voice would become Jack's own when it struck. It possessed every fiber of his being. All he wanted was death. Pain. Suffering. These feelings were foreign to him, and he was scared of them. 

He was badly shaken up by his experience with Elizabeth the night before. Even though she was acting normal again now, last night left a very bad taste in his mouth.

After all, Elizabeth planned to leave that room with Jack's corpse lying behind her. 

She felt such contempt towards him that she wanted to _kill_ him. Wanting him dead was one thing, but feeling the need _so strongly_ to eliminate Jack from the world that she had to physically shoot him herself was completely another. That wasn't like Elizabeth at all. 

Jack suspected death had taunted her, too. But to her it spoke a word that seemed even more vicious than suicide: _kill_.

He paid for some grapefruit and limes, and was about to start back up the hill, until he heard a sharp voice cut out all other noise:

"Sparrow..."

_Oh...No..._

"Alive and well, are we?"

_Oh please, God, no..._

Something hit him hard in the shoulder.

Jack turned around and stared the acquaintance in the eye. 

"You don't look all that bad, Sparrow." Luciana took hold of Jack's jacket near his collar and pulled him in, giving him a long lock on the lips. He returned no trace of a kiss. He only stared at her silently, his lips parted and his eyes motionless. "I admire a man who can keep up his looks after he's had a bit of scuffing up."

"I'll kill you," said Jack. The words scattered clumsily from his tongue but he didn't care. He meant it. "I swear to God."

"And I look forward to it, Jack. Honestly, I do, with all my heart." She was smiling at him coldly. "And I'm very proud of you. You haven't spilled the loose change on our little secret." She leaned in again and pinched Jack's cheek. "Our 'whodunit' secret. And that's very good of you. Because you know if you do, you'll be alone in mourning Mr. Turner after his unfortunate accident."

A sudden and tremendous chill ran through Jack's body. Luciana laughed. 

"Look at you, love, you've gone pale as a sheet." She backed away from him, snatching a red apple off one of the stalls and taking a quick bite out of it. "I love you, darling," she said. 

Jack felt the sudden crash of her fist against his jaw and he fell against the dirt. The pain wasn't tremendous, though he could feel blood dribbling down his face from his nose or mouth. He stood up, looked around. Luciana was gone. 

It took him a minute to realize how hard he was shaking. Jack had never felt such tremendous fear of a single person during one moment in his life. 

Death was not the only voice he had to worry about, apparently. 

_...Mr. Turner after his unfortunate accident..._

His thoughts were once again interrupted when strong hands grabbed his shoulders and he again felt someone punch him in the face. But this time it was done by a much stronger hand, and the pain was the world. Jack was certain his nose was broken. He heard someone screaming--it was probably him--and he fell against the ground with his eyes shut tightly.

_Go away. Please just go away._

"Get up, you filthy bastard," said a loud, furious, and familiar voice. Jack lifted his head up and was greeted with a massive blow to the gut. "Get up!"

Jack groaned loudly. 

A small crowd of onlookers had gathered round to watch the spectacle. People were wondering why Commodore Norrington--who was not in uniform or wearing his wig, so he now had a head of short, ruffled chocolate hair--was so savagely beating the man who was screaming on the ground. They knew that the commodore was not a violent man, and this seemed drastically out of character. 

Finally Jack managed to get on his knees and struggle to stand. He was clutching his face in one hand, blood pouring out between his fingers in a rather grotesque amount. A child somewhere started crying at the sight.

Norrington wasted no time. He seized Jack's free arm and twisted it behind his back. 

Now the pirate knew it was he himself who was screaming. He felt as if his arm would snap in two. 

"I'll make you rot in the deepest circle of hell for what you did to her, you bastard," Norrington hissed into Jack's ear. The commodore pulled at his arm tighter. 

And then snap. Everyone heard it. Jack's arm was broken. 

The pirate hadn't broken a bone since he was eight years old, and he had never experienced anything so terribly excruciating. He felt his bone literally crack, and the shock rippled through his body like a bolt of lightning.

Norrington, however, apparently wasn't quite finished. He pushed Jack onto the ground with full force, and the crowd gasped. Then he dug into Jack's stomach again with his foot, picked him up by the back of his shirt and gave him a punch in the face. Jack was now fading to the unconscious, hearing the dying cries of a woman: _Jack! Jack!_...

"Jack!" Elizabeth shoved her way through the crowd, and screamed when she came upon him lying on the ground in a huge puddle of blood. "Jack! Oh, Jack, please..." She bent down next to him and rolled him on his side, put her ear to his mouth. He was breathing. The relief washed through her senses like a fresh rain. But it was soon soiled with the beginnings of thunder.

Thomas Harding, the Turner's young gardener, had been a witness to the fight; the moment he saw the victim's face he charged up the hill and informed Elizabeth that she'd better come down quickly. 

Elizabeth held Jack close to her and wanted to cry. She had seen just the night before how internally broken he had been. The last thing he needed was physical pain. 

Norrington had never seen Elizabeth give him such a look in his entire life. Nor had she seen him give that look to anyone, for that matter. It was pure rage. 

She stood up quickly and Norrington felt the sting of her palm against his cheek. She spit on the ground in front of him. 

"How dare you," she hissed. She shoved him hard and he hit a few of the townspeople behind him. They pushed him back into the circle. "How _dare _you."

She turned her back to him and carefully began to lift Jack off the ground. He let out a scream that made some of the onlookers shiver. "Shh-shh, easy," Elizabeth whispered. She took Jack's good arm and put it around her shoulders, and ripped off a corner of her own dress and pressed it to his excessively bleeding nose. His eyes opened. "There we go. Come on, Jack. You're doing wonderfully." 

She walked slowly without looking back, Jack hobbling next to her. They got up the hill about twenty minutes later.

By that time the crowd had long dispersed, now only avoiding the enormous puddles of Jack's blood still clinging to the dirt. But Norrington still stood there, motionless, staring blankly ahead with his hand on his cheek. 

x x x x x

Jack had a fever.

Elizabeth was so worried she was nearly sick herself. She knew that after what Norrington had just put him through, Jack's body was hardly in any shape to combat sickness. 

She held a cold cloth to his head and sang songs softly, made him soup. He still hadn't woken up from when she first brought him home. He was sweating heavily, which was natural from the heat, but when she called the doctor over he revealed to her that Jack also was very feverish. He said it was probably due to the overwhelming stress his system had just gone through in such a short period of time. 

His nose wasn't broken--thank God, she thought--but his arm was. It wasn't as enormous a break as it seemed, the doctor had said, but he would need a split for up to a month. He had been banged up very badly.

After four hours, Jack stirred a bit. His eyes opened slightly. 

"Elizabeth?" His voice was very quiet, but comprehensible. 

She had been reading in the corner, and Jack's sudden activity startled her. She paced over slowly. "Hello, Jack." She smiled at him. "How are you?"

"I don't know," he muttered. He closed his eyes again. 

She put her hand on his cheek. "You've got a fever."

"Yes, I know," he said. He sighed deeply and let out a soft groan. Elizabeth leaned in towards him.

"What, what hurts?"

"Everything."

Elizabeth stroked his forehead fondly and kissed it again as she stood up. "I'll get you something to eat."

Jack rested for the remainder of the night, awakening only when he heard Will come in through the front door. 

They sat in the dining room and Elizabeth told Will of everything, and he didn't say very much afterwards. 

_...Mr. Turner after his unfortunate accident..._

Jack fell asleep. 


	9. Haze

The Deepest Circle (Chapter 9)

Plot: Jack has been betrayed yet again by another treacherous shipmate, and he starts to believe that his old friends are beginning to turn on him, too. How can they prove to him otherwise before he goes mad with hate?

Chapter Rating: PG-13 for thematic elements.

Author's Notes: I can't tell you how enormously grateful I am for all of your feedback and support, everyone. It's really keeping me going, and I appreciate it so, so much. Thank you! And special thanks to Merrie for still being the world's best beta and constantly wowing me with her stories. :) Go read her POTC fanfic "Broken Wings" and worship its greatness. Again, thanks you guys, and I really hope that you keep enjoying. 

x x x x x

Will's feelings lately had begun to confuse him; mostly on the matter of Jack's innocence and state of mind. Will was horrified to discover, as Jack was speaking to him the week before, that he suddenly felt a slight twinge of doubt in the pit of his heart. He remembered what Norrington had said, something along the lines of, "Jack has finally lost it," and Will wondered if that was indeed the truth. Jack had been subject to bouts of violence lately--he'd said it himself--and he'd lose control of his thoughts and actions. 

The state of Jack's mind at the moment was an unavoidable fact: it was very unbalanced, and Will wondered if Peony's death itself had caused it, or if this strange behavior had begun long before then. He still couldn't explain the gash on Jack's arm when he first showed up at their house, or the leather bound around his wrists in the hospital. Both seemed to be acts of self-hate and loathing, and Will feared that Jack had somehow gone too far with Peony, and killed her.

_Jack killed your daughter_.

"He didn't," Will hissed to himself aloud in bed. Elizabeth was sleeping next to him and she let out a soft grunt of disturbance. 

He had to learn to hold his tongue during the night, he thought. He couldn't leave all his contemplating to a time when he was supposed to be asleep. But it didn't really matter, anyway, since even if he wanted to fall asleep it would be impossible. That was, unfortunately, the case recently. 

He knew Jack was probably lying awake, too; staring at the ceiling, or reading with the dull glow of the three lit candles on his nightstand. The pirate seemed to be acting relatively "normal" for the past few days. It had been a week since the fight. Ever since then, he was quiet and subdued, spending a lot of his time in the main living room or on the verandah reading some of Elizabeth's new books she'd received for her birthday, which was just five days before. But he was not acting the same; like the Jack Will used to know. 

Will imagined he would have to get used to that, though; after all,

(_killing_)

losing Peony in such a short amount of time must have been a traumatic event for him. What he'd said a week before was right; life had been balanced while Peony was still living. Jack, Will, and Elizabeth all had their light--and she was it. Though of course they adored each other, among other things, Peony somehow symbolized all of the beauty and simplicity that made life worth living. 

But that light had gone out.

And still, those words that Jack had said swirled around in what seemed to be left of Will's brain:

_Look at us. We're losing our minds._

It was true. This sick, twisted reality he was living was no lie; Jack had been right. Will _was_ losing his mind. Elizabeth _was_ losing her mind. But Jack...

_"I'm beyond repair. I think we've known that from the beginning."_

"Will?" 

Will twitched back to reality and glanced down at Elizabeth, her eyes open slightly and gazing back at him. 

"What are you doing?"

"Just thinking," he answered gently. He leaned in and kissed her deeply on the lips. "Just thinking."

She paused. "About Jack?"

He nodded and slid down underneath the covers and took her in his arms. 

"I was too," she said quietly. "I think about him all the time."

"He seems better lately."

"I don't think so," she said after a few moments. "I think he's worse than before."

"Why do you say that?"

She bit her lip and turned on her back to stare at the ceiling. "He doesn't speak anymore. Not very much. Except for when he's talking to himself."

Will leaned up on his elbows, his brow furrowing. "What?"

"I hear him," she said slowly. "When you're out. He says things to himself; sometimes they're nothing really, but..."

"What's he say? When?"

"Well, this morning, he sounded like he was talking to...I don't know, someone else there, but it was..." She closed her eyes, appearing to try to sort out the thoughts in her head. "It was so strange. He was talking about colors, shading, flowers. He repeated 'roses are black' several times."

"What do you think that means?" The words took a moment to escape Will's mouth, and when they did, they came out clumsier than he had meant.

"I don't know." She moved in closer towards Will and he wrapped her tighter in his arms. "I'm scared for him, Will. It's as if he were going crazy. And we can't do anything about it, he'll...he'll just vanish." She started to break down. "I care for him so much, Will, I don't...I don't want to lose him..."

"Shh, it's all right." Will kissed her cheek and rested his head back next to hers. "We won't let him slip. He's going to be fine. And so are we."

As Elizabeth began to drift back to sleep, Will was praying that what he had said would turn out to be true. He was praying with all his heart. 

x x x x x 

Weeks passed; uneventful weeks. Jack hadn't left the grounds of the house in a month, and almost every day now Will and Elizabeth were trying to coax him into taking an afternoon stroll with them. Even though he had a bad arm, it still wasn't good for him to sit around all day doing absolutely nothing. But Jack would always refuse politely. He seemed to be looking more frail than usual; his healthy tan had waned, and he now looked unnaturally pale. 

One day--nearly a week after the split on Jack's arm was removed, and his strength was returning--the pirate finally agreed to take a walk. Elizabeth was no less than delighted to accompany him, even though he hadn't asked her for her companionship in the first place. She wanted to make sure that Norrington, or whoever else that would perhaps cause any trouble, would steer clear of Jack at all costs.

"How did you like my books?" asked Elizabeth on the doorstep as she opened up her parasol. 

Jack gave a small smile at her as they started down the long path. Finally, he announced in a hearty voice, "Jane Austen--"

"Oh, here we go," began Elizabeth with a grin.

"--Interesting. To say the least, it was interesting."

"Which one did you read?"

He turned to her abruptly and took her hands, then drawled in a syrupy voice, "'In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.' "

She burst out laughing, and his hands dropped and they continued walking. "_Pride and Prejudice_..."

"Yes."

"Did you like it?"

"Interesting, Miss Swann, interesting is all I'll say."

"Oh, it wasn't _that_ bad, was it?" she asked in a falsely incredulous tone, still unable to control a few giggles.

The little smile didn't leave Jack's lips. 

Elizabeth's laughs died down, and suddenly her heart felt a wave of unbearable pain and loss. For an instant, things had seemed almost normal and perfect again. Almost. 

"Jack," she began tentatively, "I just want you to know...about that night, a month ago..."

It took a moment for Jack to realize that she had stopped walking and he had gone a bit ahead of her. He turned, and the smile was gone from his face. Elizabeth so badly wanted it to come back. 

"I'm sorry," she said. "I know I've told you before, but I just can't shake the feeling that it really hurt you...frightened you, even."

His eyes hit the ground for a moment, and then they stared back at her. She felt her chest tighten. 

"If it's any consolation," he muttered in a voice that sounded smothered in nonchalance, "if you'd actually gone through with it, you would have been doing me a favor."

He turned shortly and continued walking, leaving Elizabeth standing there, dumbstruck for at least several minutes. 

That couldn't have been Jack talking, she thought. She quickened her steps to catch up to him. 

"That wasn't much of a consolation," she said hollowly.

He stopped walking again and faced her, but didn't look her in the eye. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"Is that how you really feel?" she asked, feeling a lump beginning to form in her throat. 

Jack put his hands on her shoulders and brushed his thumbs gently against the skin of her arms. "I crave death only when it craves me," he said slowly. "It can't be helped."

"I can't believe that," she muttered numbly. "Jack, what's happened to you? You're hardly the man you used to be. I know that losing Peony must have been a very difficult and traumatic concept to overcome, but you must try and see how much that others love you. Destroying yourself would cause so much grief for everyone who cares for you, especially after they've already lost something precious to them. Do you think that Will and I are just fine with everything? That we can simply cope with all this better than you can?" Jack was silent. "That this is easier for us?"

"I don't know what to say, Elizabeth," he said gently. "I just wish that I hadn't caused you and Will so much grief that it drove you both to this, this...madness."

_Madness_. 

The very word spread through Elizabeth's mind like a thick, polluted haze. Jack was wrong. _So _wrong. She going mad? Perhaps a bit hysterical at times, but never

(_stop__ or I'll kill you Jack I'll kill you_)

insane.

"Don't act like you're wiser than everyone else," she said, trying unsuccessfully not to sound cold. He didn't seem too affected by her statement, though.

"I don't mean to," said Jack. "But we aren't getting very far with just repeatedly apologizing to one another, are we?"

Elizabeth bit her lip, and finally said, "But I am sorry."

"For what? For trying to kill me? There are worse crimes. As we all know." He started to walk again but Elizabeth grabbed his shoulder rather forcefully and spun him back around.

"Stop it--"

"Stop what? What do you want me to do?" His tone was now loud and helpless, and he took her arms and gave her a gentle shake. "What?"

"This didn't just happen to you, Jack." Elizabeth dragged out the words in an icy hiss that made Jack go still and stare at her. She shuddered herself out of his grasp and turned back towards the house. She gave him a glance--not scornful or angry in the slightest, which surprised Jack--and said, "I'll see you later."

She took a few quick steps, trying not to give way to the tears stinging in the corners of her eyes, until a voice halted her: "Elizabeth."

She turned to him, the first couple tears starting to fall silently down her face. 

"Oh," he said softly. "Elizabeth, don't--don't cry." He beckoned towards her, and she took a few steps before he pulled her gently into his arms and she began to sob into his shoulder. "Shh, please..." He kissed the top of her head. 

Elizabeth didn't really know why she was crying. For everything, probably. Every damned thing. She wept for her dead child. She wept for her poor husband. She wept for her goddamned self; and she wept for Jack. "I thought--" she breathed tearfully, "I thought that of all of us, Jack, _you_ would be the only one to come out of this with your soul intact." 

Jack closed his eyes and held her tighter.

"You loved life," she said, her voice heavy with sobs, "you loved me and Will, you loved our daughter, you loved yourself...you _loved_...everything...and now, you're just...you're not the same--"

"Elizabeth--"

"And at this moment, I feel no hope for us at all." She backed away from him and stared at him with her soft, glossy eyes. "If _you're_ the one that is suffering and carrying all this--this _hate..._" She laughed cynically and covered the bottom half of her face with her hand, "Then we are all doomed."

She watched him as his closed eyes didn't open for several seconds, and when they looked back at her, they seemed to have darkened. "This will end," he said in a whisper. "This will end in its own good time."

"But at what cost?" she asked, taking hold of his shoulders. "At what cost, Jack? Your strength, your heart and soul, your happiness? What kind of ending is that?"

He didn't answer her.

"I would give anything," she began slowly, "to hear Will laugh again. Anything in the world."

To her slightly relieved surprise, Jack's lips twitched into a small smile, and he stroked the side of her face fondly. "He will laugh," he said softly. "He will. And when he does, by God, what a laugh it will be."

As they turned to walk back up to the house, Jack noticed Elizabeth was almost smiling. 

x x x x x

"Did you have a nice walk?" asked Will as Jack shut the door behind both of them. 

"Yes, very nice," announced Elizabeth, hurriedly trying to bury the remains of the tears she'd recently shed. Will had stood up to greet them, but Elizabeth said, "Darling, I've just got to go tidy up, I'll be right back." She disappeared up the stairs.

Jack looked at Will silently for several seconds.

"Are you hungry?" asked Will. "I've had one of the servants bake a pie."

"What kind?"

"Apple."

"I'll..." 

(_eat__ me a whole bunch of apples_)

"No, thank you," finished Jack quietly. Will shrugged and said he was going to fetch a piece of Elizabeth and himself, and left the room. 

Jack sighed, walked into the living room, straight onto the shady, open verandah and sat in one of the lounging chairs. A thin sheet of cotton spread out over the sitting area, supported by two long wooden poles. Jack liked the verandah. The view of the sea from here was spectacular, and somehow the wind hushing through the palm trees way down on the beach seemed to be quite loud up here. 

Jack missed the sea. 

_Captain Sparrow_..._the Black __Pearl__ is yours._

Something tugged at his heart and made him want to scream out for his ship. _His_ ship. And she'd taken it, that whore, Luciana...

She'd taken two of his most treasured possessions from him: Peony and the Pearl. Not to mention his pride, his faith, his goddamned sanity...

It had to stop somewhere. It had to--

_...Mr. Turner after his unfortunate accident_...

Oh, Christ, it had to stop. 

How could one woman have done all this single-handedly? How had she made the crew--_his_ crew!--comply so swiftly with her will? What the hell did she _want_?

Power, he thought despondently. All of the same old, same old: wealth, infamy, and _power_. That was what it was all about wasn't it? 

But no, there was something else. There _had _to be. She really wanted Jack to suffer. Even if she had been one of the most cutthroat pirates in the Caribbean, she would have simply been satisfied by the domination of his ship. And--though for Jack it was an enormous loss--it would've been the smallest and easiest price to pay compared to the reality that faced him now.

She had taken the life of a four-year-old girl, and now was threatening to allow something terrible to happen to her father. And since she'd said "you will be alone in mourning Mr. Turner," Jack could only suspect that Luciana was planning to harm Elizabeth as well. 

And if something were to happen to either of them, by God, Jack would simply not survive. 

He also miserably realized how unlike himself he had just acted with Elizabeth. Death had come calling again, the damned thing. Seeping into his pores and speaking through his tongue...

_But _was_ it really death, Jack? Was it? What if it's just you?_

"It's not me," he muttered. 

_Are you going to die, Jack?_ Peony asked him. 

"I don't know, darling," he murmured. "I don't know."

"Jack?"

Jack jumped slightly and turned, finding Will standing at the door with a tray. Two glasses of water sat on it, as well as a slice of apple pie and what looked like chocolate cake. 

"Did you say something?" Will asked. 

"No." Jack smiled weakly. "What's that you've got there?"

"I knew you couldn't say no to a slice of chocolate," said Will, almost smiling. He picked up the plate and set it on Jack's lap, handing him a fork and his cup of water. 

"You know me too well, Mr. Turner." Jack dug in; the cake was, of course, delicious. 

"What were you doing?"

"Just...watching," said Jack. "Watching the sea."

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Jack hummed in agreement. They were both quiet, and the warm breeze kicked up around them, making all the trees hiss. 

"Where would you be," began Will suddenly, "if you hadn't met us? Elizabeth and I, I mean."

Jack smiled. "Well, to get technical, I'd be lying six feet beneath a grave marker in a wooden box. But, fortunately for me, five years ago I was let loose into the wild, and it's all your fault, Mr. Turner. You are a pathetic excuse for a good citizen." Will had an expression on his face that was just a tad shy of amusement. Jack sighed and his eyes traveled to the ground. "Then again, if you hadn't ever met me, then I guess none of this mess would have happened."

"You know, Jack," said Will, "if I hadn't ever met you, Elizabeth and I would probably never have married. Peony would have never existed. And to me, that's worse than having her for a short period of time and then losing her. I will cherish those years I had with my daughter all my life. I regret nothing about that. Without you, Elizabeth and I...we would be mere shadows of what we are today."

Those words touched Jack beyond comprehension, but all he could let out was a soft, "Oh..." 

Will touched Jack's shoulder and gave him a gentle squeeze. "I want you to know how much you mean to us, Jack. It's important."

Jack let out a faint smile, and he patted Will's hand and stood up. "I'm going to take another walk," he said. "I'll be back before dark."

"Would you like me to come, or...?"

"I think I'll take this one alone," said Jack, leaving the verandah towards the front door. "I'll see you later."

"Goodbye," said Will. The door slammed shut and he could hear Jack pacing away down the hill. 

"Where did he go?" Elizabeth's voice from the top of the stairs startled Will, and he glanced up in her direction.

"What? Oh, he went for another walk," he replied. "I think he just needs some time alone to think."

"Oh," she said softly. She came onto the shady verandah and sat in Jack's seat, and glanced down at the pirate's plate that was smudged with chocolate frosting. "Apparently Jack had no trouble finishing up his cake."

"Apparently," said Will, smiling. 

"I love you."

The words came suddenly and unexpectedly out of Elizabeth's mouth. She leaned in and pressed her lips again her husband's, and they shared a long, warm kiss. When  they parted, she whispered, "Tell me you love me, Will."

"I love you," he said. He caressed her face gently with his left hand and pulled her in towards him until she lay curled up next to him in the spacious lounging chair. "I love you," he repeated. He took her hand and squeezed it, and they sat together for a very, very long time. 

x x x x x

Jack was not home before dark like he promised. This obviously left Will and Elizabeth feeling rather worried. Though generally they would not have much to fret about, since Jack was a grown man and he could take care of himself, he was very punctual, and they knew this for a fact. When it got to be nine o'clock, Will put on his overcoat. "I'm going to look for him," he said. "He could have run into trouble somewhere." 

"Will--" Elizabeth hesitated.

"What is it?"

"Please don't come back here," she said slowly, "until you find Jack. Please. I don't want anything to happen to him."

"I'll look all night if I have to," he said gently. He pressed his forehead to hers and stroked her face tenderly, then gave her a soft kiss. "Don't wait up for me."

He closed the door behind him. 

The air was unusually cool that night. Will briskly began to tread down the hill, the ground thick with mud from an afternoon rain shower they'd had earlier. When he arrived in the main part of town, he slipped into the pub, since he supposed that would be the first place Jack would stop. 

The air inside the bar was reeking of aged beer, tobacco, and women's perfume. From the door he could obviously see that Jack was not among those in the pub, since it wasn't crowded. He decided he'd ask the around anyway.

"Hello, Mitch," said Will as he lolled up to the bar. 

"Why, hello Mr. Turner. Haven't seen you here in a while. What'll it be?" Mitch did not fit the classic profile of a bartender; he was thin, clean, and handsome. He was drying the inside of a beer mug when he'd spotted Will.

Will smiled. "Nothing for me, thanks, I was actually wondering if you had seen Captain Sparrow around."

"Who, Jack Sparrow?"

"Yes."

"Hmm." Mitch paused, then said, "I can't say that I have, sir. I'm sorry."

"I've seen him."

A female voice interrupted the bartender, and Will glanced over to look at her. She was very pretty, with strawberry hair and sharp chestnut eyes, her thin build dressed in traditional seafaring garb. She sounded Irish, and was giving Will a bright, almost euphoric and crazy grin. "I've seen a Jack Sparrow."

"Where?"

The girl was still smiling. "He's in the jailhouse. I hear he went absolutely mad on the commodore."

Will could almost feel his head beginning to swim. "What...?"

"Beat him to a pulp. Put two bullets in 'im." She laughed softly as she took a swig of her liquor. "Bloody fool."

"Hold your tongue, Luciana," snapped Mitch. "Captain Sparrow is a perfectly respectable man. If you ask me, Norrington had it coming, especially after that mess he caused last month. An eye for an eye."

She shrugged, still beaming. 

"But I say you'd best run down to that jailhouse, Mr. Turner," continued Mitch, "I don't think they're treating Jack with as much courtesy as you'd like."

"All right." Will felt exhausted suddenly and the last thing he wanted to do was negotiate with guards, but he knew that it was best for Jack, and he had promised his wife. "Thank you."

Luciana nodded her head slightly. "Good luck." She gave Will a grin that made his blood run cold, and it took minutes to shake off the feeling as he left the pub.


	10. Bars

The Deepest Circle (Chapter 10)

Plot: Jack has been betrayed yet again by another treacherous shipmate, and he starts to believe that his old friends are beginning to turn on him, too. How can they prove to him otherwise before he goes mad with hate?

Chapter Rating: R for language and thematic elements.

Author's Notes: All right. It gets sorta scary here. Be warned. Thanks to Merrie, and I hope all you readers enjoy!

x x x x x

Will pounded of the door of the jailhouse as it started to rain.

Caribbean showers were frequent, short, and even sometimes pleasant. But at night they were downright irritating. They burnt out the torches and clouds covered the moon, so unless you had a covered lantern you were forced to wander around until you found your destination in the dark. 

The door opened and Will stepped inside, running his fingers through his dripping hair. 

"Can I help you, sir?" asked a man in uniform sitting at a desk in the center of the room. 

"Yes, I believe you're holding a man named Jack Sparrow in one of your cells."

Suddenly Will heard a huge crash and a shout coming from downstairs, and the seated guard said, "Yes. That would be him."

Will suddenly turned very cold and afraid, feeling his chest tighten. "I want to see him."

The guard stared. "I'm afraid I can't let you. He's far too violent for visitors."

"What do you mean, vi--"

"What's your name, sir?"

"William Turner," he said briskly. "Please, it's urgent; and I may be able to calm him down." The guard only shook his head. Frustrated, Will dug into his pocket and smacked ten shillings onto the table. 

"...Let me get the keys," said the guard, now smiling intently. 

They went down the stairs, and the guard told Will that he'd best keep his distance from Jack. Once the cell was in view, Will finally understood why. 

Jack was a mess. His shirt was so ripped to shreds it no longer seemed to function properly as an article of clothing; his lean, visible torso was glazed thickly in blood, sweat, and grime. His wrists were chained together, and he was literally throwing himself against the wall of the jail cell, shouting curses. 

He caught sight of Will and the guard and stopped to stare at them. "Why, dear William," Jack drawled, pressing his body up against the steel bars. 

"Jack," said Will cautiously, taking a step forward. He jumped back when Jack suddenly banged against the cell loudly. 

"Get over here," Jack hissed. Will's heart was racing. He had literally never felt so terrified. His whole body seemed frozen, but it jolt back to life when Jack threw both his fists against the bars again, sending a huge clap echoing through the walls. "Come here!"

Will took a few steps until he was roughly arm's reach away from Jack. The pirate's eyes were red-rimmed and crazy, and the clear lines visibly parting the dirty stains down his face were evidence that he had been crying earlier. Or laughing. 

"What did you do, Jack?" Will asked shakily. Jack grinned back at him. 

"I can't tell you how pleased I am to see you," he hissed through clenched teeth. "And I cannot wait to cut out your pretty face." 

Will felt something cold compress at his spine. "Jack--"

Thunder boomed outside and startled him, and Jack rammed into the cell again. "William!" he screamed. "Don't touch me! Don't you fucking touch me!"

"What's wrong with you?" Will's voice barely escaped his lips in a small, hoarse whisper. 

"Quite frankly, he's crazy, sir," the guard muttered. "Completely twisted. Nearly killed Commodore Norrington this afternoon, it took five men to bring him here."

Jack started to laugh manically, backing away from the front of the cell. "I know your tricks, you pompous piece of shit. I know all your fucking tricks."

"Jack," Will said gently. He took another step forward.

"Don't come near me!" Jack hollered.

"Jack, calm down--"

"No! I tell her to stop, and she won't! Shut up!"

A few seconds later, Jack was back at the front of the cell, clinging to the bars with his thin, bleeding fingers, nose-to-nose with Will. 

"She won't stop," said Jack breathlessly. "I just want to cut her fucking tongue out and shove it down..."

Will's stomach began to churn. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, Mr. Turner..." Jack laughed coldly and he reached out and touched Will's face. His hands were freezing. Suddenly the pirate jerked his hand away, the jagged nails leaving a small scratch on Will's cheek. It only stung momentarily.

"Jack, what's the--"

"God, I hate you!" Jack shrieked. "I hate you!" He turned his back to Will and slammed the stone wall with his fists. "Shut up, all of you! Shut up!" Jack kept moaning the

two words as he leaned his back against the wall and slid down into the corner.

"Let me go in," said Will, turning to the guard. 

"Sir, you can't--"

"Give me the keys!"

The guard rolled his eyes, now in no mood to argue, and tossed them to Will. He shoved them into the cell door and thrust it open, then quickly closed it behind him. 

Suddenly Will had a terrible feeling in his gut. This was exactly the same image he'd had more than a month before in his sleep. Jack slouching in a corner on the floor, staring wide at him, covered in blood...

(_i__ held her by the throat as i pulled the trigger_)__

(_REDRUM_)

Suddenly Jack twitched and groaned, then slumped over onto the wall of the cell. "...Oh, god..." His breaths were so short and quick it seemed as if he were hyperventilating. "Oh my god..."

"Jack?" Will cleared his throat, still hesitant to approach the pirate. He wondered why had even asked to go inside the cell in the first place. A last-minute attempt to make Jack get his act together, Will supposed, and it seemed to have worked. 

Jack paused and glanced up, his eyes darkening in the soft torchlight. "Will..." He tried to stand, but his legs proved to be desperately weak and they buckled beneath him. Will caught him before he hit the floor.

"What's wrong?"

Jack tried to steady his breaths. "I heard someone shouting at me, and then there was a loud noise...and there was...just...oh, god, it was horrible."

"It's all right now," Will murmured. But it wasn't all right. It wasn't all right at all. No less than two minutes before, Jack had been a violent, screaming maniac running into walls and threatening to remove Will's face; the fact that he could've recovered so easily in such a small period of time was nothing short of impossible. "What did you do, Jack?" 

Jack backed away from Will and shuffled over to the side of the cell, then pinned himself up so he was standing relatively upright. "Why am I in prison?"

"Answer my question."

"Answer mine."

Will grunted and continued, "Jack, you know why you're here."

"I don't."

"You shot Norrington."

Jack stared at Will for several seconds. "I haven't shot anyone in five years, Will. And I most certainly wouldn't waste a bullet on that twat."

"Well, I've had several people tell me that you gave him a bad beating and you fired at him--twice. He's in the hospital now, alive, but that doesn't--"

"I didn't shoot him!" spat Jack with a high level of ferocity that made Will jump slightly. Jack now sounded out of breath, and he leaned his back fully against the wall and slid down it, then hugged his head to his knees. "Oh, Christ," he whispered. "What's happening to me?"

"I don't know," said Will finally. His words were soft, quiet. "I don't know what to say anymore." Jack didn't look up. 

"You're trembling," he whispered. He rolled his eyes and let out a desperate-sounding laugh, then stared at the ceiling. "Oh, Christ, I've made you scared of me..."

"Jack..."

"I've made you scared of me!" he cried. Will didn't say anything, but it only took a second for Jack to notice the small, bleeding abrasion he'd left on his friend's face. "What's that?"

"What?" Will rubbed his fingers against his cheek, revealing to him a tiny smear of blood. "Oh...th-that's--"

"I did it," said Jack numbly. "Didn't I?"

"Jack--"

"Didn't I!?" Jack's scream was horrific, and Will was certain he'd let out a small cry of shock.

"Yes," he admitted shakily, "you did."

Jack was standing up now. He backed up against the stone wall of the cell, his eyes wide. "I don't remember," he said in a very small voice. "Will, I would never hurt--"

"I know," said Will quickly, not really believing it at all. 

"You and Elizabeth are all I..."

"--I know, Jack--"

"I wouldn't...I _couldn't_ ever--"

"I know." Will bit his lip, and paused to look at the floor. "I'm...I'm leaving you here, Jack."

For a moment, Jack was completely still, his dark eyes focusing only on Will's own. "...What?"

"I'm leaving you here," he said distantly. "I love you, Jack. I do. You're my most treasured friend, and I respect you. I admire you. But I can't take these risks anymore. Not after tonight."

Jack's heart was beating crazily. He felt so cold he was almost shivering, and his breath seemed to cut short. "Will, just tell me what I _did_--"

"No," said Will quietly. "I don't know, I may change my mind, but for now...I can't have you near myself or Elizabeth. It's too dangerous." 

Jack almost laughed, and he was far too ready to cry. "Will, don't...don't leave me here--"

"Goodnight, Jack." Will gave him one last look before he turned, removed the keys from the door and shut it behind him, then let the guard lead him back upstairs, taking the only torchlight with them. 

"Will, please!" Jack cried hoarsely. The door closed, and the pirate was left alone with darkness and the sound of distant thunder.

x x x x x

Peony haunted Jack that night. 

She is in a long and barely lit corridor, black doors lining either side as far as the eye can see. She's running, and her entire body seems to glow; she's clad only in a brilliantly white nightgown. Her hair is gold and radiant, her eyes wide and delighted. Jack has the vague idea that she is chasing something, but he can't see what it is.

_Look, Jack!_ she cries. _Look, a bird! A bird!_

She continues to run. 

Jack wants to warn her not to go too far ahead, but he finds himself unable to speak, so he tries to tread after her, though the air is thick and it's hard to move. 

Visions begin to overtake him: white flowers. Lots of them, seeming to fall from the sky and brush against his skin. A little girl laughing and throwing her head up, then pausing to give him a long smile before she blows a kiss in the air. 

He sees Elizabeth shouting at him with no words coming out of her mouth. She's crying, holding a pistol to his head. 

_I'm leaving you here, Jack_.

Peony blows a kiss again.

Now he is suddenly back in the corridor. It's empty.

_Peony!_ he hollers. _Peony, where are you?_

_A bird! A bird!_

Jack turns absentmindedly, and Peony stands there, grinning. 

Her eyes are missing. 

Jack is frozen with fear and tries to run, but his legs won't carry him. 

_A bird! _she screams, her black mouth opening wide to reveal a new voice that is loud and terrible. _I'll swear it was a sparrow, Jack, I'll swear it!_

She blows him a kiss. 

_HE DIDN'T WASTE IT!_ cries Will's voice in a delirious and overjoyed screech. 

_NO!_ Jack cries, _NO! WILL, PLEASE!_

Bang. 

Jack's eyes flew open and he found himself gasping for air in his moist cell, covered in pricks of straw and a thick glaze of sweat. He'd heard a gunshot. And something in his gut told him that it wasn't just from his dream. 

He heard the door burst open upstairs. There were two voices, murmuring words that were indiscernible to Jack, and then another gunshot. The sound startled the already shaken pirate and he jumped slightly. 

He heard footsteps scuffling down the stairs, and the pale glow of the torchlight began to lick the dark walls. Jack tensed. 

"Let's have a look here," said a loud and pleased female's voice. 

"Oh, Christ!" Jack hollered helplessly. Before he knew it he was clinging to the bars of the cell, ready to tear the smirking Luciana's face off. "I swear to God," he hissed through clenched teeth. 

"What?" she asked him. Her eyebrows raised and the delirious grin on her face expanded. "What do you 'swear to God?' God doesn't care, Jack. I thought you'd have noticed that already." Her lips pressed together into a rosy pucker and suddenly Jack felt warm metal against his temple. "But I know of a jolly fellow below deck who's simply _aching_ to kiss that pretty head of yers."

She kept the barrel pressed to his head, and her other hand traveled down to the area between his legs. She smiled when his breathing became shallow. "Like that, do you?"

Jack jerked away from her. "You wretched piece of shit..."

"Oh, do call me that again, Jack," she cooed. "I love it."

"What in God's name do you want?" Jack's voice came out as forcefully as he could make it, but his tone couldn't even begin to cover how much anger and hate stung the words.

"What do I want?" she repeated. She reached in-between the bars and pulled Jack to the edge again, then jammed the gun back against his temple. "_This_ is what I want," she growled, in words that were no longer dripping with amusement. "I want _this_." She pulled the trigger.

Jack's body jerked violently after he heard the snap of the gun firing, but it wasn't loaded. He slowly backed away from her, trying to catch his breath, which seemed to have outrun him by a hundred miles. "Jesus," he breathed. His legs gave way and he collapsed onto the soiled floor. 

Luciana smiled again, pointing the gun directly at him. She pulled the trigger. "Bang, bang," she said coldly. 

Jack knew that if she didn't put a bullet in either one of their heads soon, he would begin to lose it; to go to that dark place. "I'll kill you," he whispered. 

"Oh, whenever you say that, Jack, it gives me chills. I get oh-so excited.

He was crying now. He hated feeling so exposed in front of her, but she had literally gotten to his very core. He didn't know how much more he could take. "Christ..."

"Get some sleep, darling," drawled Luciana, her thin fingers clawing onto the cell bars. "Get some sleep."

Jack didn't respond until she was gone. When he heard the front door of the jailhouse close quietly, he glanced up, and through the pale moonlight of the small window, he saw Peony standing there, arms folded behind her back, her eyes red-rimmed and blank. 

_Are you going to die, Jack?_ she asked.

"I don't know, sweetheart. I tell you every day."

_I'm bleeding._

"I know."

_You're letting me bleed. It's your fault. _

"It's not my fault. Your father agrees with me, and it's true."

_Daddy doesn't believe you. He thinks you shot me in the face._

"That's not true," Jack whispered weakly. "It isn't."

_He thinks you shot me in the face._

"Shut up!" he hollered. "You never shut up!"

_You're letting me bleed. It's your fault._

"Stop it!"

_My father _hates_ you._

"Not true..."

_I'm leaving you here, Jack..._

"Shut up!" Jack began to breathe heavily, and he dragged his body backward to lean up against the grimy wall. He closed his eyes. "I loved you once," he muttered absentmindedly. "God knows, I loved you."

When he opened his eyes again, she was gone. 


	11. Grace

The Deepest Circle (Chapter 11)

Plot: Jack has been betrayed yet again by another treacherous shipmate, and he starts to believe that his old friends are beginning to turn on him, too. How can they prove to him otherwise before he goes mad with hate?

Chapter Rating: R for language, some violence, and major thematic elements.

Author's Notes: Oh my godddd. Wow. I really am horrible, aren't I? Nearly two months without updating. That's insane. You all officially have permission to eat the leg of my firstborn child. Life has been so, so busy. But some good definitely came out of it. I vacationed at the house my family owns in the Caribbean and the scenery certainly inspired very much, so most of this chapter was written there. And  of course, Merrie still rocks for being my ever-faithful beta and awesome angst partner-in-crime. Now, a warning: some people will most likely, after this chapter, not only want to eat the _leg_ of my firstborn child, but the head as well. That's because I've gotten VERY mean. But please don't kill me about it, because some things are not as they seem.  As for what those things are, well, that's for you to find out. ;) Enjoy!

x x x x x

Jack awoke at the sound of footsteps.

He nearly sat up before he moaned and clutched the back of his neck, then rolled it slowly. His spine was killing him. 

"Get your bloody hands off'a me!" hollered a loud voice. And it was female.

Jack felt his blood begin to freeze. Oh, god, he could not handle Luciana...not again, never again...

But when two men in uniform dragged the screaming woman down the stairs into his full view, Jack's heart shot up into his throat. 

"...Ana?" The words escaped his lips in an incredulous whisper. 

The men tossed Anamaria in the neighboring cell and slammed the door shut. 

"Christ, what a mess upstairs last night," one of them muttered. 

"Yeah. Poor sod."

"Any suspects yet?"

"None. But we found an empty pistol outside..." Their voices trailed off as they went back up the stairs, and Jack could only guess they were talking about the guard that Luciana had killed upon entry. But he had more important things to think about now.

"Ana...?"

She was clinging to the bars with a scowl on her face, but when he said her name, she turned her head slightly and an expression of sheer amazement struck her face. "Jack?"

He smiled, for what seemed like the first time in ages, and she scrambled to the cell wall that they both shared and took his cold hands. She would've embraced him if she could. "Oh, Jack!" she cried. "Oh, Jack..."

He felt tears stinging his eyes. Seeing Ana suddenly filled him with so much joy, he could have kissed her. She had brought so much of the free spirit--so much of the sea--into that miserable little jail cell; into his miserable little life. "I missed you..." 

"Oh, Jack, it's been hell," she sputtered angrily. "That cunt told us the most terrible stories..."

"What?" 

"That whore, Luciana," she hissed through gritted teeth, "has been pulling fabrications out of a hat about you."

"Like what?" 

Ana sighed, and then rested her forehead on Jack's dirty hands. "I thought you were dead," she whispered. "She said she cut your throat and ripped out that girl's eyes after she shot her."

"Who...? Peony?"

Ana looked up and nodded gravely, biting her bottom lip. "Oh, Jack, I'm so sorry. I know she was the world to you."

Jack didn't look her directly in the eye, but he nodded slightly. The sudden memory of the eyeless Peony from last night's dream made him shaky again, but everything still felt strangely all right. Ana was there now. "What are you doing here?" he asked. 

"She's starving us," she grunted, her eyes narrowing. "The bloody whore...we get two meals a day. And they're hardly anything substantial. I stole some bread from the market, got me a two-day sentence."

"I don't believe this," Jack muttered numbly.

Ana smiled at him faintly, reached through between the bars and stroked his face fondly. "You're still our captain, Jack. The men all know that in their hearts."

"The men think I'm dead," said Jack. Her warm hands against his flesh produced a soothing effect of relaxation. 

"Not when I'm through with them, they won't," she said. "And Gibbs is sure you're still alive. He says it every day. 'Ain't no one be tuggin' a knife through the throat of Jack Sparrow.' And the men scoff at him..."

Jack hummed in question, closing his eyes, as Ana's hands worked their way down to his shoulders and began to massage gently.  

"And they say, 'What makes you so sure that Jack ain't lyin' somewhere on a beach with his blood hot on the sand?' And Gibbs smiles. And he'll say, 'Because, mates. He's Captain Jack Sparrow.'" 

Jack took her hand that was rubbing his shoulder and kissed it. "I love you, Ana," he said gently with a faint smile.

She grinned and pinched his cheek. "Ah, don't you be sayin' such nonsense, Cap'n. The only girl who belongs with you is the Pearl." 

He meant it, though. Not exactly in a romantic sense, but since the wake of recent events, Ana was a rose in a garden of weeds; she was a light. 

Like Peony.

"What are you in for?"

"I can't talk about it."

She drew her hand back through the bars so it rested at her side, and an expression of bewilderment crossed her face. "Why? What happened?"

_What did you do, Jack? _

"Later," he said distantly.

Ana nodded, then bit her lip again and glanced at the floor. Jack watched her reach down into her pocket, and she slipped out a white sliver of ribbon and held it out to him. 

"I kept this for you," she said apprehensively. Jack's brow furrowed and he stared at it for several seconds. 

"What is it?"

He already knew very well what it was, but he just wanted to hear the words leave her lips. And when they did, he felt his chest tighten with pain. 

"It fell out of Peony's hair," said Ana, "on deck." 

Jack smiled weakly, feeling his eyes begin to prickle at the corners again, and he took it from her. "Thank you." He put it into his own pocket, and both were silent. 

x x x x x

"Elizabeth?" 

Will squinted in the harsh morning light that pooled through the windows, running his hands through his ruffled dark hair. He had tried to sleep the night before, but it was nearly impossible. The sheets next to his place in bed were out of order, but his wife was nowhere to be seen. 

He threw his legs over the side of his bed and he padded out of his room and down the hallway. "Elizabeth?"

Silence.

He was nervous now. "Elizabeth, are you there?"

He heard a loud clanking noise coming from the kitchen. He made his way downstairs, down another hallway, and he rounded the corner. Elizabeth was standing at the wash basin with her back to him, cleaning some dishes.

"What are you doing?"

She was quiet, forcing a plate into the water and scrubbing intensely. 

"Are you--"

She plunged another plate into the basin furiously, and a significant spray of water shot back up at her. She rubbed her brow with her wet hand. 

"What's wrong?"

She spun around, her eyes brimmed over with tears. "You left him there," she hissed through clenched teeth. 

"What?"

"You left him there." 

"Who?" 

She laughed coldly and rubbed her forehead with her wrist, the first tear spilling. "Oh, Will..."

"What's wrong?"

"You left him there!" she cried. "Jack! He's over rotting in that damned jailhouse, and you..."

"Elizabeth..." Will slowly advanced towards her, tried to wrap his arms around her, but she batted his hands away. 

"Don't touch me," she retorted harshly, "don't touch me, Jesus..."

"I'm sorry," said Will with growing frustration, "but please, try to understand--"

"No!" she hollered back. "There is no excuse for that, Will! There's no excuse for leaving your best--"

"He shot Norrington!" shouted Will angrily, "He shot him twice and beat him senseless! He's turned into some deranged lunatic! You want him in our house?" She didn't respond. "Do you?"

"It's wrong," she said at last. "I don't care what you say. It's just plain wrong." She bit her lip hard and picked a rag off from the counter and dried her hands, sniffing back tears. "I can't believe you."

Will was silent.

"James got what he deserved," she said hotly, untying the apron secured round her waist. "You saw what he did to Jack last month. I don't blame him." 

"You--"

"I'm going to get him," she interrupted, wiping her eyes. She threw the messily folded apron onto the counter and pushed past her husband. He heard the sound of her shoes beating against the wooden floor, and then the door slammed shut.

Will sat in one of the kitchen chairs, let out an exasperated sigh, and rested his forehead on the table. 

x x x x x 

Elizabeth knocked hastily on the jailhouse door, and was greeted with a painstakingly familiar face. 

"James," she muttered. 

Norrington stood in front of her, his arm in a sling and thick, white gauze wrapped around his torso. He only wore a navy-colored jacket and a pair of slacks. His hair was dark and messy. He had several deep scarlet scratches on his chest and arms, and a bruise so large and black on his neck Elizabeth had to bite back a wince. His eyes looked hardened and weary, but they seemed to soften when they set sight on Elizabeth's face. "Hello," he said awkwardly. 

Elizabeth's eyes traveled to the floor. "Excuse me," she said grudgingly, trying to inch past him, but he blocked her way. 

"Elizabeth, please--"

"It's Mrs. Turner," she murmured, finally staring at him in the eye with a cold gaze. "Let me by, Commodore." 

"They won't release him," said Norrington tightly. "I won't allow it."

"They _will_ release him," hissed Elizabeth. "You got what you deserved, James. After what you did to him--"

"I couldn't help myself, Elizabeth. I just couldn't believe that you took the side of a _pirate_." He said the last word as if it were the foulest of foul curses. Elizabeth leaned in closer to him. 

"He's my friend," she growled. "I love him, James. So does Will."

"If your husband is such a _friend_ to Captain Sparrow, why did he leave him overnight in his cell?" 

"I was wondering that myself," she said. "I have reason to believe he did so under the persuasion of your orders, Commodore. Threats, blackmail, money...I doubt that you could have convinced my husband with petty means to leave his best friend to rot a night in jail. You must be awfully proud of yourself, James. But when the truth comes out, know that the blame will be placed on you. When you find out that Jack did _not_ kill my daughter, and acted against you solely as an act of revenge, I'll see to it that you get demoted from your position. People don't deserve to suffer just because you're uncomfortable."

Norrington couldn't believe the words he was hearing, but somehow he mustered up enough guts to reply shakily, "Elizabeth, the way he fought...it was almost inhuman. _I _was astonished. The viciousness and ferocity was completely out-of-character for a man like Jack. He bit; scratched, clawed...he was like an animal--"

"_He_ the animal?!" she hollered. "You broke his arm and beat him almost beyond recognition! You left him on the damned ground! If I hadn't come, I'm sure you would have realized the stupidity of what you were doing after it was too late! It's outrageous that you're accusing him of being the 'animal' when you've acted with the same inhumanity and...and atrocity." She shook her head incredulously, her eyes narrowing. "It's so like you. So selfish and cold..." 

Her words stung him more than a thousand bullets. She really had no idea, though, how right he _was_. Jack _had_ been something that was almost not human the day before. A beast had possessed him, filled with sorrow, torment and, most of all, hate; icy, blinding hate. 

Norrington's thoughts receded back to when he first set eyes on the pirate in the market, close to the very spot where the commodore had shamelessly attacked him the month before. Both men paused to stare at each other. At first, nothing about Jack looked out of the ordinary. Suddenly his brow furrowed and he turned away, pressing his hands onto both sides of his head. He started talking to himself. 

Norrington couldn't hear the words, but he felt a cool compress at the base of his spine. He didn't like it. He knew Jack was not the most normal of men, but he had never seen the pirate have a hushed conversation with thin air. Soon something seemed to go horribly wrong. 

Jack's tone was suddenly prickled with frustration and agony, and he was begging something. "Please," he had moaned, "dear God..." 

Norrington decided to take advantage of the situation and try to disappear from sight. He knew it wasn't the right thing to do--which would have been to go up to Jack, be a man, and apologize--but the angrier Jack seemed to get with himself, the more Norrington wanted to get the hell out of there. 

He turned and tried to blend into the crowd, until he heard a cold voice trickle through his ears that stood out from the other ordinary voices: "_Commodore_."

Norrington could swear that he had never felt the sensation of fear in its physical form until that moment. Jack's voice was torn between being horrified and delighted.

Suddenly, as Norrington began to turn towards Jack, two loud shots filled the air, and Norrington didn't know he had been shot until he saw the blood spill out of him onto the dirt ground. People started screaming, fleeing. He fell to his knees, clutching his wounded arm as the pain began to fill the world, and he found himself crouched down before the grinning pirate, holding a smoking pistol in his right hand. 

"_Commodore_," he repeated in a tone that was practically death itself. He leaned in so that his lips gently brushed against Norrington's ear, and whispered, "Oh, Jack, it _hurts_..."

Norrington tried to speak something--_anything_--but found it nearly impossible. His fear was real. Jack had no restraint anymore. He was now a mere shadow of his former self, and a dangerous one at that. Something had to be done. Before he hurt others, before --

His thoughts were violently interrupted when a searing pain exploded in his chest, as he felt Jack's fingernails drag themselves across flesh beneath layers of clothing. He was completely merciless, as if he were trying to claw his way to the heart itself. Whenever he could, Norrington would attempt to fight back with his good arm, but it would never work for long, and soon Jack grew tired of Norrington's futile attempts at victory. He leaned in and pressed his hands tightly against Norrington's throat, not realizing that a mass of spectators had gathered around them.

Two guards sliced through the crowd, hollering at the townspeople to disperse, and they tried to pull the deranged pirate away from the gasping, bleeding Norrington. 

"The commodore's been wounded!" hollered one of them, "Fetch a doctor!"

Jack ferociously countered the two guards, scratching them if he could, biting, tearing... 

"_I'll kill you_!" he cried shrilly, the words escaping his mouth in breathless and almost incomprehensible howls, "--Kill you! Help--save me--kill me--you..." 

Three more guards arrived, trying to scrape Jack off of the commodore's limp body, but the pirate still struggled furiously. "No!" he shouted, "No, I won't let you--no! Not again--"

(_Help me kill me save me_)

"...you'll excuse me." Norrington snapped back to the present situation. Elizabeth's glare was still as frigid as ever, and without another word, she shoved almost violently past him and into the jailhouse, slamming the door behind her. 

Norrington took a deep breath, as if he were about to force the door back open, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Silently, he turned and walked back into the world; the world which he suddenly felt he did not want to be a part of. 

x x x x x

Elizabeth slapped a stack of gold coins on the table, her jaw beginning to ache as her teeth clenched together in frustration. "15£," she announced briskly, "my final offer."

The guard, who looked tired and rather dirty, shook his head glumly. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but Commodore Norrington--"

"I don't care what Commodore Norrington says!" she snapped.

"Miss," said the guard, looking entirely sympathetic, "I understand your point. In fact, I agree with you. But I can't release him; I would put myself at risk of unemployment."

Elizabeth was almost out of breath from shouting, and after a few moments, she nodded slowly. "I know...I know." She shook her head. "I'm sorry."

"So am I."

"Can I at least see him?" she asked reproachfully. "Please?"

"Yes, of course," he answered, removing a set of keys from his pocket. He got up from his desk and unlocked the door going down to the cells and held it open for her, then closed it gently as she began to descend. 

"Jack?" she called. The cells were empty, the doors of two of them ajar. She felt a numb sensation wandering up her spine. Something wasn't right. "Jack, are you in here?" 

Suddenly she heard a loud popping noise that startled her, causing her to jump slightly as she took another step towards the vacant cells. "Jack?" she asked again, not really understanding the point, since he clearly wasn't in the room, but probably just to assure herself with her own voice. "No reason to be _afraid_, stupid girl," she muttered to herself. "It's broad daylight and there's an armed guard upstairs." _Well then why exactly _are_ you afraid?_

Darkness was pluming in the deep layers of her intuition. Something was horribly--

A hand clamped over her mouth. She heard herself scream into it and grab the owner's wrist, trying to tear it from her face. She froze when she felt the rough outline of stitches lacing the wrists. It was Jack. 

"Shh, don't make a sound," he whispered hoarsely into her ear. She tensed as she felt his body leaning against hers. He was shivering.

"Jack--" she began, though it was barely discernable since his hand was still covering her mouth, but he interrupted her with another hiss demanding silence. 

He was holding a pistol upright in his hand, his arm bent at a 90˚ angle. She tried as best she could to look at his face, and when she caught sight of his expression, it was alert and at the same time subtly frightened. 

The popping noise leapt through the forced silence of the room, making Jack shudder abruptly against Elizabeth's back. His hand slowly departed from her lips, and she was left with an unpleasant taste of charcoal lingering in her mouth. He turned and pressed his back against hers. 

"Jack, what's the matter?" she asked as quietly as she could. "How did you get out?"

"Shh-shh." He raised his empty hand slightly to silence her. 

Suddenly Elizabeth saw something out of the corner of her eye; shiny, gleaming. "Jack, what was--"

A loud shot suddenly rang through the air. Elizabeth screamed and whirled around, finding Jack on his knees on the ground, hunched over. Blood flowed messily into a thin puddle beneath his legs.

"Jack--!"

Something seized her shoulders and she felt the cold edge of a knife pressed up against her throat, and again, a hand pressed itself against her mouth. She heard the blood pounding in her ears and her chest rising up and down rapidly. She couldn't see her assailant.

She heard the door open on top of the stairs, and the guard trudged down, only now, Elizabeth realized, it didn't look like he would be helping her out anytime soon. He was grinning crazily; his teeth, invisible to her upstairs, were yellow and rotten, his gums red and swollen. He took a hold of Jack by the collar and turned him violently so he was facing Elizabeth, then pressed a pistol to his head. Jack had been shot in the arm. He didn't look too distracted by pain, however; his eyes were wide and dead focused on Elizabeth.

She screamed again at the sight of his wound, trying desperately to get to him whilst in her assailant's clutches, but she was being held tightly. Impulsively, she jolted her elbow back, and the assailant winced and his grip loosened. She sprung forward but halted when the false guard cocked the gun being shoved against Jack's temple.

Elizabeth heard a soft moan from behind her--a female one--and turned. A very pretty girl stood there with a smug smile on her face, rubbing the area above her right breast where Elizabeth had just struck. "You're a tough lass, Miss Swann!" she exclaimed, sounding breathlessly pleased. "You've got spirit. I admire that in a girl." 

"Elizabeth, don't--" Jack began, but he cried out when the false guard kicked him savagely in the backside. 

"Stop it!" hollered Elizabeth.

"Oh, come _on_," the Irish girl drawled, the playful grin not leaving her face. "Don't you just want us to kill him and get it over with? After all he's been through..." She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth whilst shaking her head and walked past Elizabeth slowly, standing next to the fake guard. Elizabeth's gaze drifted down to Jack, who was evidently and rapidly beginning to fade into unconsciousness.

The girl suddenly whipped out a gun of her own and shot her accomplice in between the eyes. Blood spattered onto the wall and he fell against it with a loud thump, dead. 

Without the man's pistol to support his already leaning head, Jack also fully collapsed onto the floor. 

She would let nothing stop her this time: Elizabeth rushed forward and gathered the pirate in her arms, turning him over on his back. "Jack! Jack, oh please...!" He was breathing heavily, and as she pressed her forehead against his, she could feel the moist glaze of sweat on his skin. "Stay awake, Jack, stay awake...let me see..." She took the wounded arm and pulled the blood-soaked sleeve up to the forearm, and let out another gasp of horror. The bullet had hit directly in the middle of Jack's flying sparrow tattoo. "Oh, god...!"

"Shh, it's okay," Jack said gently to his frantically weeping friend. "It doesn't hurt."

"It doesn't hurt," repeated the girl. She shook her head, as if the statement didn't make sense. "Oh, Jack, but it _does_ hurt." A smile crept onto her lips. "It _hurts_..."

Elizabeth suddenly felt Jack's skin turn very cold. "Jack, no! Jack..."

He seized her wrist and gripped it tightly. "Don't listen to her," he breathed shakily, "get out of here."

"Are you crazy?" she cried, "I'm not _leaving_ you here--!"

"Go!" he snapped with as much force as possible. "Please, Elizabeth, just get out of here, she wants nothing to do with you..."

"Who--"

"Go!" 

Normally Elizabeth would have ignored him and stayed put, but the little selfish voice in her brain refused to be ignored. She let out a reluctant sob and pressed her mouth to Jack's forehead. Then without a word, she began to rise, still expecting the deranged woman to shoot her dead. She did nothing, though--she just stood there, smiling. 

In what remained of her rational mind, Elizabeth thought it wiser to go down to the lower level of cells and see if there was an exit (whereas normally she would go past the woman and up the stairs through the front entrance). 

Expecting the worst, Elizabeth turned, and ran. 

She practically flew down the stairs and was charging so fast she clumsily ran into the wall beside the entrance to the cells. The room was miserably hot, dimly lit, and smelled ghastly, but she still managed to make out two doors on the opposite side of the wall from the jail cells. She tore the first door open. 

She screamed as she felt the sweaty, dead weight of two corpses collapse upon her. They were guards; their throats had been cut. What must have been over three dozen flies and mosquitoes poured out of the chamber with the bodies. She continued to shriek as she battered them away with her arms, then reeled with disgust as the nails of her open fists caught the inside of one of the corpse's wounds. Her hand was in its throat. 

She gagged, forcing herself not to vomit on the bodies, and tore herself away from them. The stink of the carcasses had rubbed off on her, and more than a few of the flies followed her as she lurched herself from the room, stumbling with disorientation and pure revulsion. Finally she could hold it in now longer. She spat out some sort of bile that had been burning in her chest, and the sound of it splashing on the stone floor of the jail made her feel even sicker. 

Suddenly it hit her: she was trapped. She hadn't bothered to look beyond the bodies in that chamber to see if there was a door behind them, but chances were immeasurably slim. And of course, there was Jack; Jack, who was badly wounded--again--and so was she, only in a different literal sense. She reached down within the depths of her wracked mind, searching for any scrap of courage left after her grisly experience downstairs, and slowly ascended the stairwell. 

She saw Jack first. He had enough strength to push himself over and sit up against the wall, his blood trailing after him in a dark, sloppy river. Her gaze drifted to the girl. Her pistol was cocked and aimed at Elizabeth, and her lips lifted to a heavenly grin. Blood covered her once snow-white teeth. "Say goodnight, missus." 

_Bang._

x x x x x

Jack's eyes opened as he heard the sound of the key upstairs unlocking the door, his back sore from resting against the bars of his cell. He glanced at Ana, who was still sleeping on the straw-strewn floor on the other side of the barricade between them. A small feather of her coal-colored hair had drifted onto her forehead above her eyelids. He so wished the bars could disappear and he could brush that small patch of hair aside, feeling her moist, chocolate skin beneath his tired hands. 

His eyes drifted up towards the stairwell now. A guard he did not recognize had thundered down the stairs, gripping something shiny but it was kept invisible to Jack. He normally wouldn't have paid much attention if it weren't for the tiny inkblots of blood that had snaked into a path behind the guard. He had probably just made an arrest outside, Jack guessed. One that had turned violent. 

His opinion suddenly differed vastly once he saw the first of the two corpses--belonging to men who used to be guards--tumble down the stairs. Jack could hear one of the dead man's bones breaking against the stone steps, and once he had finally reached the bottom, he had been a scrambled heap formed into a shape that didn't look remotely human. An enormous red carpet of blood spilled down the stairs with the guard, and now ebbed into a vast pool beneath his body. It took Jack a moment to realize that all the blood was coming from the late guard's throat; a gash that was at least six inches had sliced through his neck, to the point where it almost seemed that the man's killer had originally intentioned to decapitate him. 

Jack held his breath and looked away, murmuring something that resembled an "Oh, Jesus." 

"What's the matter, Cap'n?" smiled the "guard." "Sight of blood makes you go a bit queasy, aye? Least that's what your pre'ey lady-friend downstairs seems to think. Though it turns out I'm now delivering the will of both she _and_ Commodore Norrington hisself." He grinned as he strut over to the front of the cell, then squat down to Jack's level to peer at him as if he were some caged animal at a circus spectacle. Jack did nothing but glare at the man. "What's th'matter, Sparrow?" he prodded, poking Jack with the blood-licked knife. "Cat got your tongue?" 

The man--whose name was Starkey, as Jack would later learn--stuck the blade between the bars so that it pressed against Jack's face, most of the blood ending up on the pirate's lips. Jack tried to avoid him, but Starkey shoved a fist through the bars and clenched his fingers around Jack's collar, making escape impossible. He felt the fresh blood seep into his mouth like the cum of a diseased whore, and he reeled with disgust in the opposite direction, spitting compulsively. He finally wiped it from his face with his sleeve. "Who sent you?" he asked bitterly, already knowing the answer. Nonetheless, hearing her name from Starkey's mouth would add some closure to whatever was left of Jack's brain that intended to kill them both.

Starkey didn't answer. Instead, his beady eyes indicated a glance towards Ana, who was, beyond Jack's belief, still miraculously sleeping. But Jack didn't need miracles to comprehend what this stupid oaf was insinuating towards Anamaria. "If you touch her, I'll kill you."

For a brief flicker of a moment, Starkey looked afraid as he recoiled slightly, but he didn't take long to let the pirate soak in the sarcasm. "'Fraid I'm a mite too late, then." 

Jack's heart suddenly seemed to complete six sets of beats simultaneously. He felt the numb fingers of dark incomprehension seizing his mind in an icy stab of pain, and he leaned backwards trying unsuccessfully to appear merely suspicious, when he was honestly deathly afraid. "What...what does--"

(_SHE'S DEAD) (No. NO. Sleeping. She's sleeping--) (Captain Sparrow, the Black __Pearl__ is yours...) (SHE'S NOT DEAD, NOT DEAD!) (you made me BLEED. my daddy HATES YOU!) (What did you do, Jack?) (SHUT UP, SHUT UP)--_

Starkey's pudgy fingers seized Jack's throat, pulling him up to his feet, and he jammed the pirate's face against the cell wall between himself and Anamaria's corpse. "Now, look at it, Sparrow," Starkey hissed coldly, "and take a deep breath. As of now, this is _your_ doing. And so it shall be for a very, very long time." 

Jack felt beyond anything, everything. His thoughts crashed together like fully-equipped privateers at war, smashing against one another and releasing fire, smoke, drowning all inhabitants in a vast, black ocean with no bottom. Part of his brain wanted to still function, to think rationally, to space things out. But that part just became a distant echo that hardly brought itself back to life in the near future. 

_(come on, you stupid son of a whore) (SHE'S NOT DEAD) (she is dead. dead as a fucking doornail.) (STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT) (let go, jack. i'll make it better.)  (I can't HURT PEOPLE ANYMORE--) (but you DO HURT PEOPLE. but you WANT to. it feels GOOD...) (Yes...) (so why don't you DO IT, you git) (Leave me alone, please, God...) (THIS IS _YOUR _DOING) (STOP IT) (kill them) (Yes, I will kill them, I have to) (Yes) ..._

Jack hadn't noticed that whilst a civil war had just been raging inside his head, Starkey had busted open the cell door and pulled Jack out clumsily. The pirate slammed back to life when he felt his body collide against a stone wall which his assailant had rammed him against. Starkey took Jack by the throat again and pushed him harder against the stone, then jabbed his elbow into the pirate's stomach. Jack grunted and slumped to the floor. Starkey took hold of his neck again and punched him heartily in the face.

Starkey's fingers tightened their grip, and now Jack's ever-growing weakness was beginning to show. He let out smooth wheezes for air, despite Starkey's unrelenting lacking to give it to him. His face paled. 

Suddenly a strong female's voice resonated through the jailhouse: ..._You left him on the damned ground!..._

"Elizabeth," Jack gasped, his eyes flashing open. Her voice had suddenly refreshed some of the want for life back into his brain, and he directed a staggering kick at Starkey (staggering, at least, by the standards of someone who hadn't breathed for three minutes). The kick's recipient snarled furiously and whipped out his pistol. He thrust it against Jack's forehead.

"Well ain't that a lovely coincidence," he whispered. His hold around Jack's neck tightened, and the pirate literally expected to see his life flashing before his eyes any moment. The situation was so insane, so desperate, he felt he would surely die at the hands of this buffoon. Starkey's words were only a tiny, annoying hiss in the vast halls of his mind now, like a mosquito who one swats at in the night. Starkey continued anyway. "Turns out this just ain't your lucky day, Sparrow. Ms. Doria will manage to kill two birds with one stone." He leaned in closer, and Jack could feel his foul breath spoiling whatever air was left for him to breathe. "All the pretty little birds in Sparrow's nest..." He removed his fingers and the gun. 

Jack collapsed onto the floor, trying to regain any scrap of intelligible thought as he attempted to suck the rest of the world dry of oxygen. Starkey turned hurriedly and opened Ana's

(_body's__)_

cell door. He hoisted her on his back and dragged her corpse downstairs while Jack tried to compose himself into becoming more than a twitching stain on the soiled jailhouse floor. The pirate heard a loud clank and a door slam from downstairs, and then hushed voices. One was female. 

(_Elizabeth, you asshole, ELIZABETH)_

Jack shot up with a new, random burst of energy and decided to spend his precious free time wisely. He did not want to go upstairs. It was very possible that Luciana had placed some other henchman up there, and he would certainly put Elizabeth at immediate risk should that situation be the case. Jack crawled over to the goods storeroom, in which the belongings of the prisoners were kept according to assigned cell number. 

Ana had no things. 

_(this is your doing)_

He shook his head and took one of his pistols--the one he had shot Norrington with--from the section reserved for his cell. 

He heard a noise. Starkey had rushed past the storeroom without even noticing the door was slightly ajar--let alone Jack's absence in the room (though it was possible, Jack guessed, Starkey had thought the pirate had run upstairs)--and scurried up the steps to the first floor. 

The front door slammed closed. He could hear Elizabeth's voice speaking to Starkey, and it sounded like she started naming prices or something of the sort. Her voice continued to rise to a tone of heightened irritability, and Jack finally made out a clearly discernable holler after a while: _I don't care what Commodore Norrington says!_

The door opened. Jack closed the storeroom door more, taking advantage of his temporary invisibility. 

He thought of Ana, her beautiful body being stripped and hauled onto the edge of the stern of the Pearl and being tossed into the ocean. 

x x x x x

From this point on, things had been in slow motion. He could barely see anything. He heard a loud gunshot, he fell, he heard Elizabeth scream and then take him in her arms. He'd been shot--at least that's what she said--but he felt nothing. He could remember telling Elizabeth to run, and to his great relief, she listened for once. Then things became clearer. The fuzziness had slightly wavered and he could temporarily make out the features of Luciana, peering over him, no longer wearing the angelic grin that had been smacked on her face in all his ever-so-pleasant encounters he'd had with her. She looked like pure venom. 

She fiddled with the dagger she had pressed against Elizabeth's throat earlier and went down on her knees. She bent down to kiss Jack's lips, and he was too weak to resist, but he managed to toss a healthy wad of saliva into her face when she backed away. "Whore" was the only word that got out. She effortlessly wiped the spit off the area below her eye.

Suddenly Elizabeth was screaming again; horrible, mind-wrenching screams that sounded fresh out of a torture device. 

Luciana seemed to take great pleasure in this as she dragged the dagger through Jack's innermost layer of shirts up by his collarbone, exposing the snow-white scar birthed by a dead Peony. She tapped the knife against his flesh slightly. "I bet it still hurts, doesn't it?" 

Jack, with astoundingly fluid grace, brought his leg to his chest and thrust it forward, hitting Luciana in the face. She shrieked and fell back, clutching her bleeding nose, and lunged forward at him with the knife. Jack rolled over to his left and missed her blow narrowly.  But still, he wouldn't be a match for her with his bad arm. He learned it the hard way, too, after she furiously leapt forward and pinned his shoulders down to the stone floor, blood dripping into her mouth and soaking her teeth. She looked like she had just eaten raw flesh. "You're the whore, Sparrow," she hissed. She spit blood in his face, and it stung his eyes. He hated having her blood on his skin; someone might as well have showered him in his mother's ashes. 

She removed her hands from his shoulders and stood up, only to kick his wounded arm. He cursed loudly and clutched his wound, pushing himself off the floor and dragging himself over to the wall to lean against.

He could hear Elizabeth vomiting downstairs, and Jack felt as if he would need to do the same in the very near future. The stone against the back of his neck was cool. He turned towards it and pressed his face against it, hoping it would somehow sponge up all the dirt and blood and shit all over him. 

He heard Elizabeth scramble up the stairs, the soles of her shoes brushing against each step, sounding to Jack like the wings of a bird before it takes flight. 

And then they all heard it.

_Bang._

She stared down at the horrid, pulpy red wound in her stomach without a sound. Her eyes lifted to meet Jack's for a long moment, and then she fell. She fell as gracefully as a swan. 

x x x x x 

Waugh, that was tough to write.  Very tough. I would _really _appreciate reviews; they always inspire me to keep going. Hopefully chapter 12 will be finished very soon. If you could tell me what you think so far, I'd value it hugely. Thanks! :)


	12. Sleep

**The Deepest Circle _(Chapter 12)_**

****

**Author's Notes**: Ahhh, I know, I know! It's been over a month! I'm so sorry! So many things were happening in my life--but fear not, ye olde...people...for I have not abandoned this fanfic. I want to thank everyone for their amazing reviews and patience, and a special holler to my friend Caitlin's Britty chums over in England who, with _much_ enthusiasm, told me over the phone that if I didn't update, they would swarm over my bludgeoned corpse with lit torches. So let's thank them for getting my arse to update over pain of death! Huzzah! Okay, so without further a due, here's your chapter. I hope you enjoy!

x x x x x

Will stretched and yawned, his muscles sore from simply lollygagging around the house all day. He was still bitter about the dispute he'd had earlier with his wife, though he was eager to resolve things, and hope she'd later on perhaps even realize the common sense of his own side of the argument. The frantic knock at the door seconds earlier had startled him, and he hoped it was Elizabeth returning. He wouldn't expect to see Jack by her side, although that was what she had left the house determined to accomplish.

He opened the door to greet not Elizabeth, but a guard, his wig sloppily tilting off his head. He was panting, so it was apparent that he had run a great distance. "Mr. Turner, sir," he gasped.

"What, what is it?"

"Your wife, sir..."

"My wife?"

"Yes, she's--she's been shot, sir."

Will stared back incomprehensibly at the messenger, whose name was Benson. This gaze of utter disbelief lifted once Benson stepped gently aside, revealing a weary Jack. The pirate stood there silently, his face pale and grave, covered with dirty sweat. And blood.

Will shot forward and seized Jack's shoulders and grasped them as tight as possible until the pirate winced aloud. Will ignored the fact that Jack had a bloodstained bandage wrapped around his right arm. "You did it," he hissed. "_You_ did it..."

Benson interjected, "Sir, he--"

"_You did it!_" Will screamed at the top of his lungs, shoving Jack violently away from him. "_You did it, you son of a whore, you **shot** **my** **wife**!_"

"Sir!" Benson restrained Will firmly, though he attempted to fight back, and he was left to glare venomously at the still-silent Jack. "Sir, Sparrow's guilty of nothing, I swear it. He _saved_ her, Mr. Turner, without him she never would have been--"

"Is she alive?" Will breathed as Benson's hands slowly let him go.

"She--"

Will grabbed Jack's wounded arm vehemently and dragged the pirate towards him so he could whisper into his ear. "Is--she--_alive_?"

Jack was breathing shortly, moaning, "Will, _stop_ --"

"_What, can't you give me a straight answer anymore?!_" Will screamed, "_Is she **alive**?!_"

Jack nodded slowly, releasing a cold shudder that Will could feel ripple beneath his fingers. He began to loosen his grip whilst absorbing the emotion on Jack's face which he had, up until this point, ignored. He looked horrified.

"Will..." He clutched the bloodied arm and stared back at his friend numbly.

Benson looked rather confused and overwhelmed, and instructed Will that he better make his way down to the hospital to see his wife; also that she was stable and would survive the ordeal--but Will wasn't listening.

He scratched his head and stared at the ground, as if the answer lay in the dirt, but Jack's moist eyes burned through Will and he couldn't help facing him again. "What happened to you?" he asked in a muted tone.

"Got shot," Jack blurted hurriedly.

"By whom?"

"I don't know."

"But you shot _her_," Will repeated nonchalantly, certain he was stating a fact. "You did it. You _must_ have..."

"He didn't, sir!" cried Benson, "Honest to god, he--"

He was interrupted by the loud cracking of bones as Will's fist collided with Jack's face. The pirate cried out and fell. Blood visibly trickled into his mouth.

Will was beyond ready to strike again. "You _fucking_--!"

"Mr. Turner, that is _enough_!" seethed Benson sharply, drawing his sword and restraining Will by his raised arm. "Much as I respect you, sir, I will not permit this violence against Captain Sparrow. He's innocent of this charge."

"He did all of it! He shot my wife, _he killed my daughter!_"

"You're being hysterical," said Benson, taking Will's arm and leading him away from Jack, who was still on

the ground. He then went to Jack and pulled him up, removed a handkerchief from his pocket and gave it to him. "Come along, Mr. Turner. Come see your wife."

They started down smoothly until Will turned around and spat to the pirate, "You stay."

Jack halted, the handkerchief red with blood pressed over his face.

"Captain." Benson gestured forward as he continued to lead Will by the arm. Jack hesitantly started down behind them.

x x x x x

"Will!" exclaimed Elizabeth, throwing her arms around her husband's neck. "Oh, _Will_..." She inhaled the scent of his hair and clothing, which washed warmth against her heart. He backed away from her and smiled weakly.

"I'm so glad you're all right," he said, running his hands down her body to the tight bandage smothered against her stomach. "Does it hurt?"

"A little," she answered. "It didn't go in deep. But I'd probably have been worse if Jack had--"

"--He shot you--"

"--Hadn't...carried me..." Her voice trailed off as her brow furrowed, her lips parting. "Oh Jesus, please, you _don't_ think...have you lost your _mind_?"

"Well, if he didn't shoot you, who did? God, he _must have_!" demanded Will angrily. "He's certainly got the stomach for it--"

"Some crazy woman did it! She broke out of one of the cells or something, I don't know, and she shot Jack on the spot. She had bribed a guard upstairs, shot him too, and told me to run, for reasons unknown to me. I did, downstairs. I found two guards there, dead, then I heard Jack shouting so I ran back up to see if he was all right. And she fired."

"Then what?"

"I blacked out," she replied. "Jack was almost unconscious when it happened, but he still managed to get me on his shoulders and carry me out the door."

Will stared back at her for a few seconds, swallowing heavily and leaning in more onto the bed. "So he...he didn't...?"

"_No_. All right? God, no..."

Will's cheeks turned red and he frowned, a sign of guilt in Elizabeth's eyes. She squeezed his hand tightly. "If you said anything to him," she said quietly, "go apologize."

She watched him get up and leave.

Jack was sitting quietly with his hands clasped together outside the hospital room, staring distantly at something. He glanced up when he heard the door close, and Will lingered in the entranceway for a few moments.

"Jack," he began, "listen, I'm...I'm sorry I--"

"It's all right," Jack murmured unconvincingly.

"I've just got a lot of shit in my head right now," Will continued, his brow furrowing, "I don't know, everything's so distorted, it's hard to keep track..."

"Yes," said Jack blankly.

"I just need you to answer something for me."

"What's that?"

"What happened?" he asked slowly. "The other night?"

"When?"

"When you wanted to...to kill me, you said?"

"I told you already," said Jack gently, his face starting to look more alive, "I don't know. I swear it."

"What were you thinking, though?"

"It was like I went to sleep," he continued, "or something. I have faint recollections, just faint ones..."

"Which are?"

Jack went silent for a second, and his deep, worn eyes glanced up at Will. They were bloodshot. "I wanted to hurt you. Kill you. Like you said."

Will was slightly taken aback by the casualness of Jack's tone, as if these feelings were nothing out of the ordinary. But Will could not deny empathy; just forty minutes before, he would have loved nothing more than to see Jack's carcass sprawled on the dirt. He shuddered at the memory, but it flashed from his mind quick as lightning.

He was about to ask something more, until one of the doctors--Dr. Hansbury, the same that had attended Jack a few months before--stumbled on the scene.

"Why, Mr. Turner, what brings you back here?"

Will tried to smile at him as he shook his hand. "My wife had an accident. She'll be all right, though, thank God."

"Oh, dear, yes, thank God." Hansbury smiled, then glanced at Jack. "Why, Captain Sparrow. How are you, sir? Feeling better since you last came here?"

Jack shrugged. "Not really."

A brief expression of puzzlement crossed Hansbury's face, and Will saw the doctor's eyes travel down to the red stitches still criss-crossed round Jack's wrists. The pirate glared at him. After a moment, Hansbury gave another smile and he patted Jack's shoulder. "Well, I'd best be off, gentlemen, I've got patients to look after. Good day."

"Good day," replied Will with false cheer, and the doctor hurriedly continued down the corridor.

"I don't like him," Jack muttered.

"Why not? You know that if he hadn't stitched your wrists, you would've died--"

"Doctors are terribly cruel sometimes, Will." Jack's eyes flashed angrily as he looked as his companion. "You know why? They let us live."

Will's blood turned cold and he swallowed heavily. "Oh, come on, you don't..."

Jack smiled and let out a soft laugh. His gold teeth glimmered brightly from the daylight pooling in through the hospital windows. "Are you scared of me, Will? Hmm? You _scared_, Dear William?"

"Jack, why are you talking this way--?"

"Like what?" The smile didn't vanish.

"--It's frightening..." Will frowned and he swallowed again.

"Frightening," Jack repeated blandly. "Frightening. It's _frightening_?"

Will could do nothing but nod. He tasted a storm in the air.

"Let's talk about _frightening_, Will," Jack hissed, leaning in towards his compatriot, his bony fingers clawing around the arms of the chair. "Let's talk about finding a four-year-old girl with a bullet beneath her eye in your arms. Let's talk about getting _death threats_ from your fucking _friends_. About waking up to find a woman you loved _strangled_ to death in the cell next to you..."

Will stared hard at Jack for a second, then as revelation crept in, he breathed, "Oh, Jesus...Ana? She couldn't be..."

"Oh, yes," drawled Jack. He inched even closer, so close that Will could feel the pirate's hot breath smother his skin. "She _is_."

Before either knew what odd sensation crept over the atmosphere, Will vigorously embraced Jack for a moment. "Jack," he whispered, "God, Jack, I'm _sorry_..." It didn't long for Will to hear Jack's small intakes of breath by his ears. The pirate was crying. "Shh, it's okay, it'll be all right." Will recoiled to take a look at his friend's face, but he didn't get a good view of it: the instant they parted, Jack buried his face in his hands and started to sob.

"She was just _lying_ there..."

"Who killed her?"

Jack slowly put his hands down and he wiped his eyes. "Did Elizabeth tell you what happened?" he asked shakily.

"Yes."

"What did she say?"

"She said that a woman--probably an escapee from one of the cells--shot you and Elizabeth, as well as a guard she had bribed. But she said nothing about...about Ana."

"Then I guess that woman did it. Whoever she is." Jack tried hard to keep his voice steady.

(_You haven't spilled the loose change on our little secret...About me, Jack...Because you know if you do, you'll be alone in mourning Mr. Turner after his unfortunate accident..._) (_GET OUT, SHUT UP_)

"We should go to the--"

(_UNFORTUNATE ACCIDENT!!!!!!!_)

"No," retorted Jack strongly. "No, there's no point. I shot her before she left," he lied.

Will paused. "Elizabeth failed to mention that..."

"She didn't see it," Jack continued hurriedly, "and that woman couldn't have gotten far; I got her in the stomach. She's probably dead somewhere around."

Will felt skeptical, but he didn't press it. He didn't want to. He inhaled deeply and embraced Jack again, and this time the pirate returned it, crying loosely into his shoulder.

"I could have saved her..."

"Don't say that. You couldn't have."

"I _could have_..."

"Jack. Look at me." Jack's reddish eyes slowly drifted from the ground to meet Will's. "There was nothing you could have done. All right? Nothing. None of this is your fault."

(_But it _is_, Jack..._) Luciana's voice hissed. (_It's _all_ your fault._)

Will's brow furrowed and he stared at Jack for a moment, and then awkwardly pulled him back in for an embrace, but the pirate's earlier words had left a disturbing impression in his mind that wouldn't go away. _Ana's dead. She _is_, Will. She _is.

While his arms were still around Jack, one of Elizabeth's doctors hurriedly rushed into her room, giving Will a brief--yet strangely grieved--glance before he shut the door behind him. Will was about to rise and see what was going on, but Jack kept him pinned in his seat.

"Don't go," he whispered. His teeth were almost chattering, as if the room were bitter cold, and Will felt obliged to obey the pirate. He stayed put.

He fell asleep against Jack's shoulder before he could hear the horrible sobs coming from Elizabeth's room.

Jack did not rise when he heard her screaming. He just stared ahead at the wall, nonchalantly wondering when she'd stop. He was so used to the sound of shattering screams in his mind that it seemed useless to pay attention to them anymore, real or not. He rested his head against the wall and sighed loudly, as more than an hour passed and the doctor did not reemerge. He thought it was strange, but he did nothing. He just waited.

He, too, fell asleep after a while, listening to the warped lullaby of Elizabeth's crying. When he awoke later on, he would forget her weeping altogether: a mistake that he later wished with all his might that he could erase.

x x x x x

I know, it's short. Sob I'm sorry! I just had to get another chapter up so that you guys wouldn't think I a) Abandoned the fic, and, b) Had killed dear Elizabeth. Just had to show you guys that she wasn't dead. A much longer chapter will come next, I promise! And hopefully much sooner than before. I also need to share with people my gratitude for their wonderful reviews, which never cease to encourage and inspire me. Thank you so much!


	13. Cello

**The Deepest Circle _(Chapter 13)_**

**Author's Notes: **Aaugh, I feel bad! Again, it's been such a long time--Christ, like six months--since I updated, but at least I have a bit of a longer chapter to make up for it.

I've gotten so many reviews and e-mails from people begging me to update, so I just wanted you to know I still haven't abandoned TDC!

It was a hard chapter to write, but hopefully not _too _full of angsty stuff happening all at once. Though I do go for spoonfuls of dramatic goodness, I try not to make it like a soap opera--so if you think there's too much going on at once, let me know in a review and I'll definitely make more of an effort to pace myself. I've just got so many plot ideas, it's hard to spread them out! Gaah!

100+ reviews! Yay! Thank you so, so much, readers, I treasure your opinions enormously; every single one of them. Know it sounds corny, but it's the truth! Again, thank you, thank you, thank you! Kisses!

Anyway, here's your chapter. I hope you enjoy!

x x x x x

Sounds of thunder rang through the warm, salty Jamaican winds and rain started to patter on the sand. The sun still poked through the clouds, casting a pale light on the palm trees, but apart from that, only grey swept the land.

Elizabeth watched this from her open bedroom window, relishing how everything was in plain sight. Her husband was playing a Handel piece on the piano downstairs, and Jack had fallen asleep on the bed beside her while reading aloud to her one of the books Will had purchased for her birthday.

It was such a genuinely peaceful moment. For a while, she even forgot her cause of weeping the past two days: a cause she had yet to reveal to her two companions.

She turned her head slightly and smiled at Jack, whose hands were spread almost longingly over his chest. She took her own hand and paired it with his and fingered his greasily dreadlocked hair.

"_Cast your eyes on the ocean_," she sang softly. "_Cast your soul to the sea_..." Thunder erupted suddenly and caused her to pause in brief fright before she continued in a gentle whisper. "_When the dark night seems endless, please remember me_..."

Jack's eyes fluttered open and gazed at her mutedly before he smiled softly. "What was that?"

"What?"

"The song. What's it called?"

"Dante's Prayer," she answered.

"It's nice," he said absently. Jack's eyes closed once more and he seemed to drift back into sleep almost instantly.

Elizabeth stroked his thin, cream-colored shirt and her dark eyes merely surveyed him as the soft hiss of rain played outside the window. Suddenly she caught something poking out of his pant pocket; something pink.

She let her fingers gently take hold and it was revealed as a long, pale ribbon. Elizabeth stared at it numbly for a few seconds before her fist tightened around it and she held it to her lips, trying to cry as silently as she could. She knew it had been Peony's.

Jack muttered something in his sleep and turned over on his other side, his back now facing Elizabeth. She inhaled shakily, desperately endeavoring not to cry out and awaken the pirate with her tears. They came so easily and freely in the recent days that Elizabeth had felt entirely powerless to stop them. Weeping was now becoming the most regular of activities and it made her feel both tired and exhausted just to think about it.

She didn't understand the point of tears. They were a frequent nuisance, and yet unlike every other thing of which this was true, she did not feel a stronger sense of immunity towards her fears and sorrows each and every time she began to sob. Nothing waned or resulted in her crying. It was just a watery outpouring of how utterly broken and sad she felt, and this outpouring did not change a single damned thing. Not one thing.

She remembered tying Peony's hair the day she died with the pink satin ribbon. The girl had picked it out herself, saying that she preferred the color to the white one, which now lay still in Peony's dresser.

"Jack?"

She spoke his name so abruptly that she startled herself, and immediately regretted it, simply because she didn't want to wake him and have him see her in this state. But he heard her anyway, and he flinched before turning around again. He gave a soft, "Mmm?"

Once his eyes opened and focused a bit more steadily, his brow furrowed with concern as he sat himself up and leaned over. Jack's arms reached out as if to embrace her. "What's--are...why are you crying? Elizabeth?"

She could only gaze back at him with reddened, damp eyes as her trembling hand--covering the bottom half of her face--was clutching the pink ribbon.

"What's the matter?" he asked, his voice barely hovering above a concerned whisper. "What's wrong?"

"Jack," she breathed, "I...I..."

His eyes visibly came upon the dangling ribbon between her fingers. "Oh," he said mutedly, "Oh, Elizabeth, I'm..."

She let out a choked sob and placed both hands on her forehead, and Jack leaned in and wrapped his arms around her. "Shh...shh, it'll be okay...you hear me? It'll be okay, love, I swear..."

Elizabeth continued to weep in his embrace until abrupt knock at the door startled them. Will stood there looking anxious yet slightly confused at the position his wife and friend had just been engaged in.

"I heard someone crying," he said detachedly. When Jack backed further away from Elizabeth, he could see the tears gliding freely down her face, and Will rushed to the side of the bed and took her hands in his. "Darling? Darling, what's wrong?"

"I miss her," she sobbed, "I miss Peony..."

"Oh, Elizabeth," Will murmured tenderly, kissing her lips. "It'll be okay. I promise you it will. Peony won't come back, but...we can have another child. It won't replace her, but..."

Elizabeth only wept in return, but then after a few more moments of this, managed to calm down and wipe her eyes. "No, we can't," she said with her jaw clenched. "We will never have that dream again, Will..."

"That's nonsense. We still love each other, right?" Will pressed his forehead against hers and looked her in the eyes, and she managed to nod slightly. "As long as we have that...as long as we have that, there's no limit to--"

"I don't want any more children," she blurted, letting her eyes travel to the ground.

"Of course you do--"

"It's--it's too _soon_ to have children--"

"Elizabeth..." He looked her in the eyes again and allowed her to pause.

She looked to the side, and then glanced at Jack before her eyes filled with another blanket of fresh tears.

"I can't have any."

Will recoiled, stared and blinked incomprehensibly, saying nothing. Jack's lips parted and his eyes seemed fixated on something far-off from them.

Whatever calm stance had temporarily washed over Elizabeth had now completely vanished, and she broke into sobs. "_I can't have any!_" she cried. "The shot...in--in my stomach, it..."

"Oh, Jesus," breathed Jack, putting his hands on his head. "_Oh_, Jesus..."

"There were c-complications..."

Will quietly stood up and left the room, slamming the door behind him causing both his wife and Jack to jolt in their places.

"Will!" she cried. "Will, come back...! Please...!"

Her words faded into loud sobs and she rested her head on Jack's shoulder and continued to weep. The pirate held her close, the expression of perpetual shock slapped on his face.

"Hush," he muttered dazedly. "Hush..."

x x x x x

Will threw his coat over his shoulders as he forcefully closed the front door to his back. It was pouring rain out now, and mosquitoes buzzed hungrily in the hot air. He swatted a few away as he trudged through the muddy front path of his home and walked solitarily down to the docks.

It was practically deserted, save a few sailors taking care to bring goods in off the decks of their ships into the safety of the living quarters. Lamps hung eerily on many of the posts and the omitted lights seemed like pale clouds of gloom. Will shivered as he watched the grey horizon. The mist was so heavy it was almost impossible to make out the waves.

Will closed his eyes tightly and began to cry, not really minding if the sailors around saw him or not. He put his hand to his face and wept with almost every ounce of strength that he had in him, but a sudden voice startled him and caused him to turn.

"Dreadful kinda 'noon, innit?"

It was the same Irish woman he had seen in the pub the night Jack pummeled Norrington and ended up in jail. Even soaking wet she looked luminous and beautiful, and was smiling faintly at him. Will didn't respond.

"Kind of makes me wish I were dead." Her smile expanded. "Know what I mean? Nothin' to live for in this weather."

She took a step or two towards him and noticed his tears, which mixed in the rain. Her smile faded.

"I s'pose I'm talkin' to the wrong man. My apologies for your grievances, sir." Will nodded in acknowledgement but was still silent. She continued to inch towards him. "Might I...be so bold as to ask why a handsome feller like you is without his missus? Alone in the rain? Cryin'?"

"I'm afraid it's private," he said loudly over a clap of thunder.

"I see. 'D she leave you, then?"

"Who?"

She tilted her head slightly and grinned, squinting as the rain began to fall harder. "Your, uh, lady."

"No. No, no, she's at home, she..."

"Ah. Separate matter?"

"Yes."

"I see." She extended her hand. "I'm Luciana. Luciana Doria."

He did not take her hand, but he spoke his name, and she gave a long nod.

"Aye, I know who ye are, Mr. Turner. Kind of hard not to, I understand you're a household name on this isle. Inherited the governor's house, didja? That make you the governor?"

"No," he replied quickly. "I'm not the governor."

Luciana paused for a second. "Well, what are ye then?"

Will stared at her and let out an almost self-deprecating laugh. "I don't know."

Luciana let out a "Hmm," clicked her tongue against the roof of his mouth and flashed him another smile. "You _do_ know a Jack Sparrow, though, do ya? Heard you asking round for him at the pub a few nights ago?"

"Yes. I know him."

She nodded. "Well. Send him Luciana's regards." She smiled again and waved her fingers slightly. "I have to leave you now, Mr. Turner, but, ah...I'll be seein' you again. Soon." She turned her back to him and walked away. She seemed to disappear into the fog, leaving Will completely alone, staring after her with tears still clinging to his face.

x x x x x

Jack heard the front door close and Will's heavy, wet footsteps start through the foyer. Jack left the sleeping Elizabeth's room and watched her husband from the stairwell.

"Where'd you run off to?" he called. Will paused before heading into the kitchen to glance back up at him.

"Out," he replied quietly. "Just out."

Jack nodded absently. "Mind if I come down?"

Will gazed back at him, not saying a word, and continued into the kitchen. Jack's brow furrowed and he placed his hand on the railing, and descended the long staircase. Another roar of thunder tore through the silence and the chandelier balancing from the ceiling shivered, the glass tinkling unsteadily. Jack glanced up at it before following Will's footsteps.

"Will," he started, "I know that you..."

He halted in the kitchen doorframe. Will was filling his pistol with several rounds nonchalantly, and did not look up at the pirate.

"What are you doing?"

"What's it look like I'm doing?" answered Will quietly.

"What are you loading the gun for, Will...?"

"Tell me something, Jack," he said calmly, "when do you think this will end? Hmm?"

"Wh--what? When what'll end?"

"This." Will finished loading the gun and promptly held the barrel to his head, his face still completely neutral.

"Will, don't...what's...what's wrong--?"

"She can't have any _fucking children!_" Will hollered, fresh spittle bursting from his lips. He paused briefly to wipe it away with his tongue, and the gun was still propped up by his temple. "_My wife!_"

"Will--"

"I can't take this anymore," stated Will numbly, "I can't. I can't take it. You, Elizabeth, Peony, I...I can't..."

"Will, listen to me," spoke Jack feverishly, "you can't...don't...don't do this. I love you, Will. I love you; your wife loves you; think about it. Just--just put the gun down. All right? Mate? Just put it down for me...?"

"Jack, _I can't!_" shrieked Will, his eyes beginning to redden. "_I can't do this anymore!_"

"All _you're_ doing by pulling that trigger is destroying us."

Jack paused briefly, frantic blood pounding in his ears.

"You hear me? _Destroying us_. You are _furthering_ the bloodshed, Will, that's what you're doing. Put the gun down if you want this to stop."

"It won't stop, Jack," Will hissed. "It won't. This proves it. As long as her womb is--is fucking _broken_, it will _never_--"

"Your father sure as hell would not have stood for this."

"Leave my father out of it--"

"He'd have stayed strong...stayed strong for his family--"

"_Shut up!_"

"Will," Jack breathed forcefully, "Put the gun down. I beg of you. I can't stand it. The image, it's..."

"It's what?"

"I can't bloody _take it_, just lower the gun!"

Will stared at Jack for a second or two before he let it drop ever-so-slightly. "Why?"

"Because," said Jack gently, eyes dampening, "I can't stand...I can't..."

Will watched the pirate cry before fully resting the gun on the table, and he pulled out a chair and sat down. He hesitated before speaking. "Jack, you--I wouldn't--I..."

"It's my fault," Jack murmured thinly. "Everything, all of it. It's...it's my..."

"Don't start with that again."

"I just--I look at you, and I _can't_...I can't stand to _see_ you like this, both of you...I could have saved Elizabeth; Ana; Peony. All of them, I could have stopped what happened, I could have done something...and what this has led to..."

Will stood up and rested his hand on Jack's shoulder. "I wouldn't have done it," he whispered. "I could never pull the trigger."

Jack sniffed and brushed his hand beneath his nose, rubbed his eye. "Well, Will, that information would have been very useful to me several seconds ago..."

Will smiled weakly and managed to kiss the top of Jack's head. "I could never leave you both." He closed his eyes and put his head against the pirate's shoulder and sighed deeply. "Never. I'm sorry."

Both men stood still for a while, the rain pattering on the window before Jack cleared his throat and wiped his eyes again.

"I know things will get better," Will said. Jack struggled to nod and he began to leave the room before Will spoke, "Oh. I bumped into someone named Lucy...Luciana? Some name like that? She said to send her regards."

Jack froze, his back to Will and he felt his blood turn cold. He staggered slightly in his next step before he closed the kitchen door behind him.

x x x x x

Elizabeth and Will made love that night; slowly, gently. A troupe of classical musicians was outside by the gates, playing for passersby to drop coins into a hat. They couple left their window open, letting the sweet moans of the violin and hushed whispers of wind to cushion their ears and senses as they rocked into each other, kissing deeply and soaking each other's skin with their hands.

And as this lovemaking was taking place in the master bedroom, Jack sat on his own bed, loading both his pistols methodically.

Once he finished, he slipped them in his holsters and left his room as quietly as possible. He heard passionate, husky breaths coming from down the hall, and they eerily bounced and echoed throughout the massive main hall.

He trailed down the stairs and closed the front door softly behind him, making his way towards the main part of town. He tipped his hat and smiled at some local ladies--who giddily responded with waves--before wandering to the lone beach where Peony's body had been found.

He sat on the sand, removed his boots and let his feet rest on a patch of damp shoreline. The tide swept over them, damping the bottoms of his pants, and he took in the air. He could still hear the music being played near Swann Manor, and it soothed him.

"I want her back," Jack whispered hoarsely.

Something swift suddenly brushed against his shoulder. Jack jolted with surprise, and his head instinctively jerked to the left. Peony, standing with her bare feet dug in the sand, was in his place. She looked absolutely perfect. Her skin was clear, glowing; a healthy blush stained her cheeks and the curls, which on the last occasion Jack had seen her were lifeless and almost deathly black, were golden ripples hanging by her ears. She smiled warmly and put her arms around his neck. Jack closed his eyes, exhaled loudly and pressed his forehead against her stomach. She felt so real...

He trembled profusely, and then cried freely into her pale yellow dress, the one she'd been wearing when she died. She said nothing, only stroked his neck and face.

"Why did this happen," he breathed. "Oh, god..."

He recoiled from her and shook his head, looked away from her. He sniffled. "You can go now," he said shakily.

And then Jack was alone.

"Alone," he muttered.

"Sparrow--"

Jack drew his cutlass so fast he practically cut his own opposite arm off. He scrambled to his feet and almost immediately found his blade was directed at none other than the Commodore.

"Get away from me," Jack slurred clumsily. "Now."

Norrington put his hands up and took a step backward. "Easy..."

"I mean it. Get the fuck out of here."

"I just wanted--"

"Norrington," Jack hissed. "You get the fuck away from me."

"No," he replied firmly. "I'm not leaving."

Jack's stance shifted uneasily. "Now."

"No. I'm not going, I can't."

"James--"

"I'm not moving, Sparrow. This needs to stop."

"What the hell are you--?"

"We need to move on."

Jack laughed hoarsely. "What?"

"We can't make ourselves out as enemies anymore. We can't stay planted in the earth like this, it's not doing us any good."

"So be it. I don't care. I don't give a shit."

"I think you do."

Jack laughed again. "No. Really, I don't. You're not worth my time. Now please desert the premises before I am forced to stab you right through, sir."

Norrington's mouth drew into a thin line. He folded his hands at his midsection and calmly let the ocean tide sweep the sand beneath his shoes. "I'm not moving."

Jack's hand acted before his brain could do anything. He gracelessly shot forward and pierced Norrington's shoulder. The pirate gasped aloud, surprised and drew the cutlass back as quickly as it'd come. Yet the commodore, as promised, did not move. The wound was small, and blood dribbled down his coat in a thin, wet vein, but he had not even flinched. A moment of silence passed between them, the hushed breaths of waves nurturing it, cradling it. Jack bent down and let the water wipe his blade clean before he got to his feet and putting the cutlass back in its sheath.

"That was stupid," he said at last.

"I miss her too."

"She wasn't yours."

"I loved her," snapped Norrington. "You need to get out of your shell, Sparrow. We loved her, we all did. She wasn't yours either."

"Well. She'll be the last."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Jack halted. He tried to stop his hands from shaking, his jaw from trembling. "Nothing."

"No. Sparrow, you..." Norrington's brow furrowed, and he held out a hand. His knees were bent slightly. "You mean..."

"No. I mean nothing. Nothing about anything. Anything about nothing. Leave me alone." Jack turned his back and tried to command his legs to propel him forward--anywhere. Off the beach, into the Atlantic, anyplace but there...

"She was wounded," breathed Norrington uneasily. "I heard she was hurt, but you...that you saved her."

"And? What did you expect me to do instead? Split her head open? Dismember her, ravage her insides?"

"Don't coat my words with malice, Sparrow," snarled Norrington.

"Do you know what it's like?" burst Jack suddenly. "Them pressing...pressing a _pistol_ against their head? Every day? Do you have any _fucking_ idea what that's like? They're turned into these--these broken..." The pirate was trailing off sporadically. The words seem to refuse to drift freely from his tongue. "I can't tell anybody."

"Tell anybody what?" drawled the Commodore bitterly.

"I just--_Nothing!_"

"Jack, you're not making any sense--"

"Norrington, I swear to god, if you do not leave me alone..."

"I'm not going to let you be alone, Jack."

"I said to fuck _off_, you bastard!" he spat. "I will kill you!"

"Fine. Do it."

"I'll kill _myself_!"

"So do it. Go ahead. Kill yourself. That will solve everything. Am I right?"

"Fuck you," Jack hissed. He went a few paces to the left and crossed his wrists on top of his head.

"Where are you going?"

"Nowhere," Jack muttered. "I..." He sighed heavily. "Oh, god, I don't know what to do anymore."

"There's nothing you can do, Jack."

Jack's jaw visibly tightened. His eyes snapped to meet Norrington's, and they sparked with the provoked nature of a restless flame. His arms went down to his sides, his nostrils flared. "Don't you say that," he growled. "Don't you ever fucking say that to me. I will fix this. I will whip myself dead until I fix this."

The remark took Norrington aback. He would have replied, but Jack promptly began walking away. Except it was more a sort of aimless wandering. It was distant, and he was looking up at the sky as he trailed along the beach. The lush sounds of the violins and cellos on the hill accompanied the huge sighing of the palms. The Commodore watched him walk. He walked and walked, and by the time he had stopped, the sun was up.

x x x x x

Hope you enjoyed! More is coming VERY soon, I've already got some of the next chapter written. I promise updates will be more frequent from now on! For now, please review and I will shower you with love and adoration. Thank you so much!


	14. Poisons

**The Deepest Circle _(Chapter 14)_**

**Author's Notes: **An update at last! After reading this you'll see I'm sort of cramming in plotline, and I apologize for that; but all of it was necessary, a lot is going to change after this chapter. I hope you enjoy, please review and tell me what you think!

x x x x x

"We were worried about you," said Elizabeth as she greeted Jack at the door. His bare feet were caked in black sand. He looked tired, sallow, upset. She let him in. "James said you took off."

"Ah. Commodore Norrington stopped by, did he?" asked the pirate with a sarcastic smile. "Hope I'm not too late to catch him. Such a delight, that man."

Elizabeth didn't say anything, and Jack headed for the stairs. "I have to sleep, darling," he continued. "I should be up in a few hours."

"Will's not here," she said, ignoring him. She seemed on edge about something. "Perhaps you and I should do something together, Jack. I never did thank you properly for saving my life the other day. I feel as if I should repay you somehow."

Suspicion and bewilderment immediately crept on Jack's features. He almost managed a chuckle. "Repay me, love? There's no need to--"

"Yes. Repay you." She backed up against the door, clutching the knob in her thin, tight fingers. Jack could see--even from the stairs--that she was shaking. "Let us retire to the bedroom, Jack. I must show you something."

The pirate was wary. Afraid, even. _This isn't her. This is not Elizabeth. _

"I insist, Jack. Please."

"All right, then," he answered. Something was wrong. Jack figured this would be the only way to solve it.

He wanted for her to catch up to him on the stairs, and then she led the way, closing the master bedroom door behind her as they entered. She locked it.

"Elizabeth," he said quietly. "What are you doing?"

She turned to him, eyes ablaze and close to tears. She reached behind her and quickly unlaced her bodice, stripping her clothes off with incredible speed until finally her breasts were exposed. Jack had never seen them before. He backed up until he hit the bed, and then he fell onto it. "What are you doing?" he repeated.

"Make love to me, Jack," she breathed fiercely, shoving the remaining bottom half of her dress to the floor. Now all that remained were her stockings and garters. She still wore her shoes, the ones Will bought for her on his trip to Virginia.

"Elizabeth," he started shakily, "put your...clothes back on..." Her body was beautiful, something carved out of ivory and brushed with a glaze of gold honey. He wanted to touch her but the thought of it stung him so badly he wanted to cry out in shame. "Please."

"He won't see us," she said breathlessly, inching towards him. "He's not due home for hours."

"That--that isn't the point," he whispered. She was right in front of him now, standing fully erect. She brushed her fingertips on his knees and it sent him quivering. "I can't do that to him."

"But you want to," she said, smiling. "I can see it. Go ahead, Jack, indulge. You won't get hurt."

"No."

"Come on, Jack."

"Elizabeth, please...stop it."

Suddenly she threw herself on top of him, and Jack grunted in protest, but was too overwhelmed to immediately attempt to push her off. And by then she'd already started kissing him.

Her kisses were what Jack had always dreamed they'd be. Like peeling back the petals of a rose only to find another flower behind it, deeper and richer than the first. To his horror Jack found himself kissing her back with the same vigor on which she kissed him. When their lips at last parted, both gasping for breath, Jack managed to holler a "No!" before attempting to push himself away from her. "I can't do this...Elizabeth...I can't..."

"Yes you can," she breathed into his neck, nibbling at it with her lips. It felt amazing.

"You don't mean this," he stated loudly, trying to nudge her away. "I know you...you need this...now...at least you feel you do, but please...it's a mistake. Once it's finished...darling...I promise...you'll hate yourself for it..."

He felt his pants unbuckle. He wanted to scream at her, shove her away from him, but it was too late. She forced him to enter her and suddenly the world turned unimportant and terrible. This would change everything. Nothing would be the same between them again. Jack thought of Will. Thought of all the nice things in the room that were his. His hat was on the desk. He'd asked Jack for his opinion on choosing the color of the bed sheets that he was now fucking his wife on; the pretty dress that now lay crumpled on the floor at the foot of the bed was a present from Will to her a couple of years ago.

Elizabeth rode him hard. It was intense and violent as she pumped color into him and made him gasp and clutch her hair with one hand, bed sheets with the other. She ran her tongue over his jaw but he didn't really notice it. He thought he heard the door click, and panic jolted him violently to look up past her, but she forced his head down and continued. The rush between his thighs swelled slowly to the rest of his body like some beautiful stain, and he could not breathe. "Oh, Jack," she hummed slightly, repeatedly. When he finally came it was the longest it had ever been, in all his years: nearly two minutes. She'd opened him to the point of flames practically erupting on his skin.

Elizabeth pulled out of him and rested beside him on the bed, smiling at him with a sick complacency. The sweet, overwhelming exhaustion tingled in his veins; he imagined bleeding to death felt similar. He thought it was strange that she didn't want the pleasure reciprocated, that she hadn't expected him to give anything back. She simply watched him recover. It took no less than five minutes for the feeling to come back into his body. When it did, he practically flew from the bed and shoved his pants back up.

"What was that?" he breathed, attempting to salvage his thoughts. He wanted her again. Over and over again. She wouldn't answer. "Elizabeth, what in the blazes is wrong with you?" he repeated angrily, backing up against the door.

"I want a baby," she whispered. Her answer came quicker than Jack had expected and it caught him incredibly off-guard. What took her more off-guard were her sobs, when just seconds ago she appeared on cloud nine.

"Oh, my god," he muttered to himself, taking his head in his hands. "Elizabeth, you...you did that because...no..."

"I can't believe that just happened," she said numbly after a few seconds. "Oh, god. What was I...oh, god. Will." She glanced up, looking as if she were making sure it was, in fact, not her husband she'd just made such brutal love with. But it was Jack. Just Jack. Looking like a hurt and frightened animal that had just been smacked by the hand that had always fed it. He stared at the floor in confusion, picked up her dress and handed it to her.

"Cover yourself," he murmured. She complied and wrapped herself inside the dress, and continued to watch Jack with complete disbelief.

"I don't...know what came over me, I just...I had to..."

"Elizabeth--"

"I-I forced you. Oh, my god, Jack..."

The words struck Jack so hard he felt physically beaten down by them. Yet she had done it. It was true. And he hated her for it.

"I'm so sorry," she said, her chin beginning to tremble. "This...this insane notion just popped into my head the instant I saw you. I thought if...if Will couldn't give me children that...that you could..."

"You realize," Jack said slowly, "it is not relevant to what man you sleep with, Elizabeth. You are the one unable to bear children any longer."

"Yes, I know," she sniffed, wiping a stray hair from her face. "I just don't know why I thought that, you...you looked so helpless when I opened the door. I just wanted you." She paused. "I've never gone with other men besides Will. I...I've never done that with another man."

"I know," Jack muttered.

"You...you won't tell--"

"No."

Jack hadn't expected her to look relieved after he assured such a request, and she didn't. She just sat there staring at him. "I don't know what to say now," she whispered, her eyes fluttering to the floor.

"I imagine you won't know what to say for a long time now," he said, not intending for the comment to come out as coldly as it did. Yet for what was perhaps the first time in his life, Jack was dead furious with Elizabeth. He wanted nothing more at that moment to take her by the wrists and scream out how utterly terrible she had just made things. She had forced him to betray the friend he'd held most dear in the world. She had scrapped whatever honor, whatever dignity and whatever sense of remote chivalry had remained in him. And, perhaps worst of all, he now worshipped her. Every hair on her head, every centimeter of her skin he wanted to taste, to touch. A hatred for her seethed in his veins he'd never felt for anyone, and all for giving him that brief taste of a purer poison he would no longer be able to drink. Jack normally wouldn't have thought about Elizabeth in such a way, not once. Now, within the last ten minutes, he had become a slave to her body. He craved it like a luscious opiate, like a rare fruit. He wanted to make love to her over and over again, to feel her soft lips against his throat, to run his hands over her firm stomach, still etched with the scar of the bullet; her graceful thighs to envelope him and secure the only form of paradise he would ever receive in this life or the next.

He did not know what to say to her. And as he'd just said, he probably never would again. He didn't want to lay eyes on her again, to speak another word to her.

"Your husband will be home soon," he said tightly, fully fastening his pants back around his waist. Elizabeth started to cry. He didn't care. "I'll be asleep in my room. Get dressed. Please don't talk to me."

He left her to weep and closed the door behind him.

x x x x x

When Will got home, Elizabeth, he thought, hadn't made such an effort to boost her beauty in quite a long time. She wore one of her more magnificent dressing gowns, and her hair was held up with her clips studded with rose-colored pearls. She wore a magnificent gold pendant he'd given her as a gift after Peony's birth, and she'd fitted it with a long chain so it hung past her bosom. She had the healthy glow of someone who had just made love.

"Hello, darling," he said happily, giving her a long kiss on the mouth. She returned it with a smile.

"I think we should go out tonight," she said. Will could smell her perfume, which she only wore on special occasions. "You, me and Jack. We could go to the Green Orchid for supper, I think that would be nice."

Will shrugged. "Sounds fine. Does Jack want to go?"

"I'll ask him." She squeezed his hand before whispering an "I love you," and advanced the stairs into Jack's room, shutting the door to her back.

Elizabeth was horribly ashamed. She deserved to die for what she did, she thought. She'd deceived her husband and had forced one of her closest friends and companions into fucking her, all for a catastrophically stupid reason. Jack had told her to stop. Maybe she would have if it hadn't all been so horribly, miserably exciting to feel him kiss her back, to listen to the gasps and moans he'd been unable to suppress when his body had been drenched in pleasure. Elizabeth had always wondered what it would be like to make love to him. _Well. Now I know_.

She'd made a dumb effort to conceal what had taken place that night for when Will got home. She frantically, perhaps even unknowingly, put on only things he had given her as gifts. She tried to make herself look beautiful for him.

Elizabeth believed Jack when he said he wouldn't tell Will of what had happened, though she didn't know if that bettered the situation. The guilt would still ravage her like a storm. What she was most unsure of, though, was how to mend Jack. She'd done perhaps the absolute worst thing one person could do to another in the wake of the horrors that had already befallen them. He had been a miserable man since Peony's death, and now she'd forced him to live with the fact that he'd fornicated with his best friend's wife and mother of his dead daughter.

She had to talk to him.

"Hello, Jack," she said quietly. He was sitting on the edge of his bed facing the door, as if expecting her already. "How are you feeling?"

"I told you not to talk to me," said Jack.

"That won't do us any good."

"Well, what happened earlier didn't seem to cause much 'good,' did it?"

"It was a mistake, Jack."

"I knew you would say that. I fucking _told_ you you'd say that."

"What I did to you, there's...there isn't an excuse. I don't know how to fix it or what to say, only that it was a horribly ill-mannered judgment--"

"_A horribly ill-mannered judgement_?" drawled Jack, almost laughing. He stood up and took a step towards her, with disbelief, confusion and amusement all etched on his face at once. "That's quite a name for it, Mrs. Turner."

"Don't call me that," she whispered coldly.

"Oh. Oh, I'm sorry, darling. I thought you wanted me to call you by that name, though. I could've had you when you were Miss Swann though, see, there's the difference. I cannot make fornications with Mrs. Elizabeth Turner, wife of Will Turner, mother of the late Peony Jane Turner..."

"What are you saying?" she asked. Something was slowly starting to dawn on her about Jack, but she hadn't the courage to realize it at that moment. He was now no more than an inch in front of her, looming slightly above her with his eyes like dully lit pools of ink hovering over her skin, watching every slight detail of her move and thrive. His hands slowly found their way to her shoulders and he closed his eyes tightly. He tucked his lips into his mouth before releasing a gentle, shuddering sigh. His eyes fluttered open and Elizabeth could feel his fists clutching the shoulders of her gown in tight knots, but she did not break her gaze from him. He quickly leaned in and planted a deep, wondrous kiss on her. It lasted at least thirty seconds before he pulled away suddenly and stroked her cheek. She had never seen such a miserable expression on his face.

"If I ever do that again," he whispered breathlessly, "you must tell Will everything."

She nearly opened her mouth to speak but he covered it with his familiar charcoal-smothered fingers. "Don't say anything to that," he told her. "Just don't."

When his hand receded, she said in an almost choked whisper, "I asked Will if we could all go to dinner tonight. I would love if...you could join us."

He took a step back from her and got his coat and hat from their appropriate racks. He smiled weakly. "All right."

She closed her eyes in incredibly sweet relief. "Thank you," she breathed. She left him in his room.

Will was still standing in the main hall of the house, now with his nicer jacket on, waiting with a patient smile on his face. "Is he coming?"

"Yes, he just needs a moment to get ready."

Elizabeth tried to hide the taste of Jack's kiss from Will as if it were something visible to him. The dawn of the thought was slowly stretching itself over her, forming its own sky and clouds, as she realized she had made Jack love her.

She did not love him back.

"What have I done," she whispered incredulously to herself. Tears stung her eyes, though Will's voice stopped them from falling down her face.

"Did you say something?"

"What? Oh, no. I didn't say anything."

x x x x x

It didn't take long for Will to see something was troubling Elizabeth all throughout dinner. She continuously retreated to the powder room without excuse or explanation. He wanted to ask her about it but knew she'd be cross with him later for bringing up such a subject while Jack was around, who acted rather talkative and happy during the meal. It was the best shape Will had seen him in in weeks. On Elizabeth's fourth visit to the powder room, Will leaned in across from Jack.

"Do you know if something's troubling her?"

Jack shrugged, taking a bite of his steak off his fork. "Perhaps. You can never tell with her."

Will shook his head. "Something's wrong." He paused. "Jack, would you mind taking Coppers Road home instead of the usual route? I hate to ask you, but I'd like to walk her home and talk about it, so..."

Jack smiled. "Not a problem, Master Turner."

"Thank you, my friend." He patted the pirate on the shoulder, and Jack put on his best smile while tapping Will's hand affectionately.

"You're welcome."

They dined in silence for a few moments, waiting for Elizabeth to come back. Hopefully she would now be the one to make conversation, as Jack had suddenly receded into his own skull, chewing his food and staring into space.

"You know what," Jack said at last, resting his fork and knife on the plate. "I think I'll start off home now."

"But Jack, you--"

"No, please, Jack. Stay." Elizabeth suddenly appeared beside the table and took her seat quickly. Her hand took Will's and she stroked it absentmindedly with her fingers, and Will noticed that Jack was eyeing the gesture warily, as if it were somehow offensive. "Our food's just come. Please, just a few moments longer."

It took him a good sixty seconds to respond. "No. No, I don't think I will." He smiled briefly. "You two ought to be together, aye? It's been a while since the happy couple's spent a good night on their own. I'm sure Mrs. Turner's through whittling away at the time with yours truly. She should best spend time with her husband."

Elizabeth's gaze suddenly cooled, and her grip on Will's hand tightened. They watched Jack rise and salute them off, and he quickly left the restaurant.

x x x x x

Peony came back to Jack for the first time in a long while as he walked through the thick, leafy bit of rainforest -- a shortcut back to the main part of town. A large, glorious moon hung in the sky and reflected in shafts of lavender off the palms and plants as Jack passed them hurriedly.

_Stop thinking about my mother like that._

"Like what, sweetheart?" he breathed, sweat beginning to moisten his brow. He wiped it away. The air was humid, and his muscles tired.

_You know like what._

Jack paused to lean against the trunk of a large tree and catch his breath. He'd only just realized he'd ran most of the way for the past twenty minutes and he slid down until he hit the dirt ground. Peony walked in front of him in her pretty dress, which looked like something glittering and pale in the moonlight. She began twirling and waltzing with the air, humming a tune, and Jack watched her with weary eyes.

"You mustn't dance like that, sweetheart."

_Why not?_

"Your father wouldn't approve, not in that dress. Suppose you fall down and get it dirty."

_Well, do you think daddy would have approved of what you did with mummy this evening?_

"Your daddy is never going to know about it. Your mother and I will keep it a secret until the day we die, my love, it's in the past. Like you."

_Yes he will. He'll find out._

"He won't."

Peony stopped twirling and the smile left her lips as she glared at Jack with a deep, cold gaze.

_She saw you._

Jack stared back at her, his brow furrowed. "Who saw, sweetheart?"

She didn't answer. She was gone.

"Peony?" Jack asked quietly.

No reply, again.

"Who saw?" Jack hollered suddenly. "_Peony!_"

He scrambled to his feet as he heard a loud snapping of branches. Seconds later he saw a figure inching towards him, momentarily hidden in the shadows.

"Hello again," said Jack, pulling out his pistol. He pointed it directly at Luciana's face.

Her pretty features had been split above her lip, where the scar from Jack's kick in the face still lingered. There was no twisted smile that she normally put on whenever she surprised Jack with one of her pleasant little visits. She just watched him with a strange expression he couldn't put into words.

"Oh, Jack," she sighed. Her speech was slightly slurred.

"Does it hurt?" he asked. "Your lip?"

"I suppose it does."

"Good."

"Is Mrs. Turner hurting at all? Not being able to conceive a little sibling for Peony must put quite an ache in her belly, I imagine it will last a long time." She paused. "Put the gun down, darling."

"I don't think I will."

"You won't shoot me." Her smile came back, and Jack immediately felt his finger tighten on the trigger. He cocked the pistol. "It's far too tame an ending for me, Jack, surely you know that."

"I know it is. I'd prefer to have you skinned alive, your veins wrenched and pulled out from your muscles like twine..."

"Lovely image, that."

"But this is quite the opportune moment, my dear. I'm going to kill you."

"So do it. Shoot me."

Jack pulled the trigger, but Luciana immediately seized Jack's wrist and threw it above their heads. The shot exploded in the air, and one of the palm leaves caught fire. She pulled his arm, which was still sore from the bullet it had taken the week before, and wrenched it behind his back. She wasn't strong to kept it held there, but it hurt like hell. He threw himself away from her and gave her a solid punch in the face, which knocked her to the ground. He straddled her and held the pistol to her throat.

For the first time he'd ever recollected, Luciana looked genuinely frightened. She was taking in deep, even breaths and stared up at him with a quiet, white rage. Her hands were clenched at her sides.

He cocked the gun again. Not an ounce of remorse was in him. This was it. He was going to kill her. At long, sweet last, Luciana Doria would be dead.

"Don't," she whispered.

"Fuck you," spat Jack loudly. He smacked her, but her strength beneath him didn't waver.

"You don't understand," she breathed. "You don't want to kill the both of us, Jack, do you?"

"No fucking mind games, Luciana, I can't take it. Your death will be the most beautiful thing that ever happens to me. My God take every ounce of mercy in Him and set it aflame when you arrive at Heaven's gates."

"You fool," she muttered. "You don't--you don't understand..."

"Understand what?" he barked.

"I'm with child, Jack."

Jack pushed the pistol against her throat harder, and she started to gasp for air. "Liar," he hissed.

"Feel me," she choked. Jack knew it before he pressed on her stomach; he knew by the way her eyes bore into him with icy anger and sincerity.

His fingers reached beneath her jacket, her shirt, to the soft flesh of her navel. They felt around several times until finally he felt something firm and slight, and he immediately stood up and shot in the air six times. He threw the gun as far away from him as possible and buried his face in his hands. "This can't happen!" he screamed. "This cannot fucking happen to me!"

"It's yours," Luciana said finally, after he seemed to somewhat regain his composure. She sat up and rubbed her throat for a moment. "So go ahead and shoot me dead, Captain."

"Not after today, not after today... This can't happen..."

"I know, Jack. Fucking Turner's wife must have taken its toll, I'm sure."

Jack whirled around to stare at her. He was trying so hard not to cry, not to pick up the gun and do himself in. Too much was happening, too much was happening and it was happening far too fast...

"You saw."

"I intruded, apparently, and saw you were quite busy with the lady Elizabeth." She smiled weakly. "I decided to let you alone." She paused. "And how amusing, Jack, I knew you far too much of a coward to rid the world of me now that I've conceived your baby. Rather unintelligent of you. After all, I'm here now. Unarmed. Helpless..."

"Get out of here!" hollered Jack. "Please, just please leave me alone..."

"I'll grant you that," she said. She used her hands to help her push off the ground, and she stopped to gaze at the one palm leaf which was blazing red, and the flame curiously hadn't spread to the other trees. "See you in six months, darling. I think it's a girl."

She left Jack alone.

x x x x x

More coming very soon, reviews are so appreciated! Thank you!


	15. Release

**The Deepest Circle _(Chapter 15)_**

**Author's Notes: **Wow, it's been a long time. I'm so sorry. Real life's been happening and I'm starting to work a lot as an actress so it's sort of been getting in the way, but there are worse reasons to write infrequently! I hope you enjoy this chapter, and to those of you who have been reading from the beginning, I thank you for the bottom of my heart. This story will always be updated until it is finished, so don't fret no matter how long it takes between updates. This story is my baby and it will be complete. Thank you so much!

x x x x x

Will stared out on his balcony for a few moments, watching the ocean. It was incredibly clear that night, the water practically looked to be filled with silver dusted stars, and the sky loomed above it like some giant ink tarp. He hummed contentedly to himself, allowing himself to finally be at peace with whatever demons had been spat up at him the last few weeks.

Will Turner was someone that firmly believed everything happened for a reason, and now all of this would be put behind them. He had seen a vast improvement in Jack. He admired the way he had handled Will's hysteria when finding out the news of his wife's infertility, and was even more impressed with the pirate's treatment of Elizabeth. He was always gentle with her, always kind. He made efforts never to make her upset, and he protected her with every ounce of strength in him. Jack Sparrow was a man of fine character and of even brighter spirit, and Will now was immensely content with the fact that he believed Jack from the beginning; that he'd had nothing to do with the death of his daughter and furthermore, that Jack was, and had always been, a good man.

Elizabeth's sudden noise of turning down the bed sheets had startled him. She'd just come from the powder room to change into her nightgown, and when he turned she was seated upright, her hands folded in front of her. She watched him with a peculiar expression that he could not quite identify: it was longing and calm; tired but wanting to speak. He immediately felt desire tug at his senses. She looked practically luminous, with her hair casually spilling on her shoulders. Her nightgown's neckline hung just above her bosom, and her collarbones rose up gently from her silken skin. He watched a vein in her neck tighten as she swallowed.

"What is it?" she asked after a moment. He could swear he sensed a flicker of panic in her voice, which he was quick to extinguish with his calm reply.

"Nothing," he answered. He walked slowly to the edge of the bed, stepped onto the mattress and leaned over on his knees to plant a deep kiss on her lips. When he receded, she gazed at him with that same strange expression, but he didn't pay it much heed. She looked all the more beautiful. His eyes caught a glimpse of something dirty on her pillow that looked a bit like a faint smear of charcoal, and he licked his finger and rubbed at it furiously. "Damned things," he muttered, "they were just cleaned, weren't they?"

"I was drawing," she blurted quickly, "with the charcoal in bed yesterday. I must have dropped it or grazed it on the pillow, clumsy of me..."

He laughed at her fervent explanation and stroked her cheek. "There's nothing to be upset about."

She shrugged, a nervous smile snagged her full lips. "I didn't mean to dirty our sheets."

"It isn't important." He kissed her again. He felt his veins coursing with thick, hot blood as he stroked her waist. "Come with me," he said.

"What?"

"Just come."

"Oh, Will, not now, I'm tired..."

"Elizabeth."

She gave a loud sigh as he took her hand and led her quickly into the bath room. A large porcelain tub sat in the middle of the room, and the windows were open wide, giving it an airy cleanliness. It was pitch black, save for the moonlight, which would have normally sufficed as enough to see, but Will went to the candles and began to light them. They rested atop the mantle of the fireplace, with a giant mirror hanging above them. It reflected the small amber pools of the flames to every corner of the room, and Will began running the bath.

"Undress," he said, his voice hovering above a rough whisper.

"Honestly, Will, I already told you I'm too tired to--"

"Yes, but you look stressed. Just do as I say, come on."

She reluctantly lifted her nightgown over her head, tied her hair back, and when the tub was filled, he took her hand and helped her step into it. Elizabeth hissed at the heat but got used to it rather quickly, and she curled up in the tub. The water cut off at her neckline. A few stray locks of hair ran down her neck and floated lifelessly on the surface of the water. He took a sponge, soaked it, and began rubbing her back. The look of caution still hadn't left her face.

"There are no ulterior motives to this, Elizabeth, I promise you," he said with a grin. She acknowledged the comment with a brief smile, then silence resumed.

"You're awfully quiet," Will said.

"As I've said, I'm tired." She paused. "But you were so kind to do this, Will. I could use a bath."

"Yes, you need to relax."

"No, I need a wash..."

"You feel dirty?"

"Oily, like something's crawling on me," she muttered.

He waited a moment to speak. "What's troubling you?"

"Nothing."

"You're acting very strange tonight. You hardly left the powder room at the restaurant."

"I'm tired, is all. I've said."

"You don't sound yourself."

"Don't be silly," she said. She took his hand and forced him to rub her neck with the sponge. "Massage it hard," she said, "it's quite tense there."

"Drink some hot milk and honey tonight, get a good sleep. I don't like seeing you upset."

"I'm not upset." She took his hand again and squeezed it. Will retracted both his hands and took thirty seconds to look out the window to the shore.

"I wonder where Jack is," he stated. "He should have been home by now."

"It doesn't really matter, does it?" she asked. She propped her feet up and over the end rim of the tub and let them dangle over the floor.

"Well, yes it does," he answered. "Whenever he goes on his own like that, he's usually done... done something."

"He always comes back," said Elizabeth.

Will had nothing to say to that, and Elizabeth was quick to kill the silence. She didn't want it hanging between them. "Thank you, Will," she said after a minute. "That was quite wonderful of you." She kissed him, and he helped her out of the bath and wrapped a towel around her.

x x x x x

Elizabeth heard a gentle rustling and then a small crash, and they stirred her out of a deep and blank sleep. Frightened, but not enough to wake her husband, she fiddled with her nightgown sash and tied it securely around her waist before cracking the bedroom door open to peer into the hallway. Jack's bedroom door was open and the light on, pooling into the otherwise blackened hallway. She could see a shapeless form of a shadow hurriedly pacing back and forth, and she cautiously made her way to the doorway.

Jack was cramming his belongings into a large trunk that had previously belonged to her father, and it looked like he was attempting to make haste. It took him a full minute to realize Elizabeth standing there, staring at him blankly.

"Oh," he breathed with a note of gaiety in his voice, "hello, Elizabeth! Hello."

"What are you doing?"

"You reek, my dear, you reek of the stench of just making fervent love with your adoring husband. Correct me if I'm wrong."

She must have made a visible sign of disgust at the question because Jack laughed quietly before he resumed packing his things.

"Fascinating," he murmured, "having a gentleman and a rogue in the same day, I can't imagine what it will be next. An officer, perhaps? Is Commodore Norrington due for a fuck within the next--"

Jack was met by the sudden, violent sting of Elizabeth's palm against his jaw. Her eyes were wet with cold tears and she attempted not to look fazed, and Jack knew it. He just smiled.

"Well. I'm off."

"What?"

"I'm leaving, dearest."

"What do you mean 'leaving,' where are you going?"

"Don't trouble yourself." He turned his back to her and began shoving items that now did not necessarily belong to him into the trunk. Elizabeth's fingers absentmindedly twitched at her sides and she could feel her mouth hanging open, her heart pounding tightly.

"Where are you going?" she repeatedly steadily.

No response.

"Jack."

All she could hear was his rushed breathing, the light and barely audible sounds of his tongue wetly flicking in his mouth.

"_Jack, for god's sake-_-!"

"What?" he snarled. As he spun around to face her, his long hair shuddered and was trapped behind his shoulders. Elizabeth helplessly felt her teeth cling to her bottom lip, her eyes beginning to sting.

"Don't do this," she whimpered at last.

She could see the rage burning angrily, madly in his eyes slightly subside. His chin trembled and his lips pushed up into a pursed scowl and he brought his hands up as if to grasp her shoulders but they quickly went back down to his sides. "I have--"

"Who was she?" The question escaped Elizabeth's throat in a thick, guttural noise and Jack took a step backwards. She could see he didn't like this; he wanted to leave, to get out of there...

"Who was who," he muttered dumbly.

"That woman," hissed Elizabeth through clenched teeth.

"What--"

"In the fucking prison, Jack!" she hollered. "The one who shot me, the one who shot you! You knew her!"

"Don't do this, Elizabeth," Jack slurred in a sudden, brutal tone. His hands resumed their original course of direction and held her shoulders tightly, shook her violently. "Don't."

"Do what?" she cried. "Who was she, who the hell was that woman?"

Jack let go of her and paced to the opposite side of the room, his head in his hands.

"I'm not letting you go anywhere until you tell me--"

"_Shut up_!"

"Jack, you listen to me," she growled. She marched up to him and clasped her hands around his waist, held on so tight she thought her fingers might burst open. "She's done something, hasn't she."

"Let go of me," he whispered coldly. "Let _go_--"

"She's done something to you? To Anamaria? The crew?"

"I'm warning you--"

Elizabeth's lips twitched around her next words: "Peony?"

Jack had a sharp intake of breath and stared at her, suddenly paralyzed. He shuddered beneath her hands.

"Did she do something to Peony, Jack?"

He gave her an aggressive shove and attempted to spin away from her, but she held on tightly and wrestled him to the floor, her legs straddled around his waist and her hands pressing his stitched wrists to the carpeting. His breaths were long and deep, his chest was rising and falling as quickly as a dog's. A soft whimper came out of him that Elizabeth did not expect, and he was barely fighting her to regain control -- something he easily could have done.

Elizabeth lowered her head so that her mouth was by his ear, and she took his head in her arms. "Please tell me," she said gently. "Please, Jack..."

Jack's arms slowly went up and wrapped around Elizabeth's bony torso, pulled her to him, let her cry in his ear.

"What did she do," she whispered.

_What did you do, Jack?_

He felt a lump in his throat, felt closer to tears than anything he'd ever felt before, but he had no choice now. The end was coming, and for better or for worse, he couldn't be afraid of it. He knew if he'd kept completely silent any longer, the insanity would drive him to the very gates of hell and he would drag everyone along with him. Reality and fiction would blur again. He couldn't have it like that, not like that...

"She killed her," said Jack. As the words slid from his mouth it was like exhaling black smoke he'd ingested years ago. His eyes closed as he felt Elizabeth's weight on him grow heavier. "I led Peony to her."

Elizabeth began to rise, Jack presumed to engage in some kind of negative act towards him, so he held her tighter to him. "Listen," he whispered. "She seduced me, many times... and I left her. And over the course of three days when I was not aboard, she came to the ship, killed four of my crew and took it over."

"How?" choked Elizabeth. "How could she have...?"

"She offered them something I couldn't," he muttered. "Money. When I returned it seems mutiny had been committed again, albeit a reluctant one. But she gave half a crown to each man aboard, and greed will win a pirate's heart much quicker than conscience."

"And Peony..."

"She knew of your family, your wealth. She told me at knifepoint if I brought her the girl she would simply demand a random and when it was paid, Peony would be returned. If I didn't comply she would have killed me and you, Will, Peony..."

"You had no choice," she said numbly after a moment, but Jack detected a hint of skepticism in her voice.

"I didn't, Elizabeth," he stated gently. "She would have killed you."

"But why did she kill Peony? If she just wanted the money, why...?"

"She didn't want money," he said quietly.

"Then what did she want?"

"She wanted to see me suffer," he murmured. "And I have suffered."

"All this because you left her?"

"I don't know," said Jack. "I don't... I have no idea."

By this time, Elizabeth's body had slumped beside Jack's, and they lay holding on to each other on the bedroom floor.

"And now," he began, "she's..."

He couldn't finish the sentence, but Elizabeth was staring up at him with wide, damp eyes.

"She's what?"

"She's carrying my child," he breathed. He felt something click inside his chest and he broke down, crying, his hands masking his face. Elizabeth was utterly silent, moving only to wipe a stray lock of hair from his face. She took one of his hands with hers and kissed it, then let him cry for a few moments. He needed it. He sniffled and cleared his throat. "I don't know what I shall do," he said wearily with a cracking voice.

"I'm sorry," said Elizabeth. "For what she's done. For what... for what I've done."

"What you did," repeated Jack. Then to her surprise, he chuckled softly, then gazed down at her with a sort of affectionate smile. He pulled her closer to him. "I believe I've discovered something, Elizabeth."

She was quiet, waiting for him to continue.

"I confused my feelings today," he said. "I confused love with something else."

"And what's that?"

"Love," he stated again, this time using the word within the gentle context of a parent saying it to their child. "You understand, I think."

She managed to smile. "I do."

"You're Will's girl. Always will be. I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Oh, Jack," she breathed heavily against his chest. "Thank you."

He kissed the top of her forehead, and a thought immediately crashed into his skull:

_She saw you_.

His mouth still pressed against her skin, he opened it to speak, to tell Elizabeth that Luciana had seen them, caught them. But in this rare, silent and strangely calm moment he decided against it. Jack had fed Elizabeth so much so quickly. He had barely begun to scrape the surface and even what he'd revealed to her she probably hadn't even begun to digest. He let it go, just for now. Except for one last thing:

"You mustn't tell Will," he muttered. "Not yet."

Elizabeth began to sit up, to stare at him. "What?"

"I am putting you at great risk telling you this, Elizabeth. You mustn't tell a soul. Not Will, not Norrington... no one. Otherwise she'll find a way."

"To do what? She's pregnant, for god's sake, she can't wage any kind of war in the state she's in."

"I want her rested," he said. "I want her fit as a fucking fiddle; recovered, healthy, beautiful... then I'll go to her. Alone."

"What of the child?"

Jack took a moment to respond, as if he'd forgotten that the baby was his in the first place. "We'll see."

With that, Jack stood up on his feet and helped Elizabeth up off the floor.

"Unpack your things," she said with a slight smile. "Please."

"Of course," he replied. He stroked her cheek before patting it, then said, "Now off to sleep."

She obeyed and started for the door, and she watched the pirate turn away and began taking clothes out of the trunk.

"Jack," she began timidly. He faced her again. "It's going to be okay soon. I can feel it."

He gave her a smile, his gold teeth glinting in the lamplight. "Off to sleep," he repeated, then made a shooing motion with his hand.

Elizabeth closed the door and tiptoed back to her room, lay down next to her sleeping husband. She drew up close to him, put his arm around his waist and he stirred briefly in his sleep to take it.

x x x x x

More coming very soon, reviews are so appreciated! Thank you!


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